Twenty Years
by Aqono
Summary: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful lives through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?
1. Chapter I

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful lives through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

Just to be on the safe side, this story is rated T.

**Twenty Years**

**A Static Shock Fan-Fiction**

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><p>A light tapping at Richard Foley's office door broke the blond of the trance he had not even known he was in. Clearing his throat, he sat up in a more professional position than the slouch he had fallen into, and fixed his tie. When he decided that he was orderly, he gave a welcoming "The door is open" to the visitor at his door.<p>

The doorknob turned and the door pushed in toward the room. In the doorway stood a tall, thin, pale woman wearing a knee-length, strappy sundress colored in a lovely lilac. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail with pieces of hair still covering her forehead and face. Her smile was bright from white teeth and a shimmery pink lip gloss. In her arms, she protectively held a thick textbook to her chest as if she wanted nothing less than to drop it. "Hi, Professor Foley," she said, greeting her instructor warmly. "May I come in?"

Richie gave the woman in his doorway an once-over before giving her a friendly smile. "Hello, Charlotte," he said, standing up from his desk as he waved his student into the room. He had a real knack for remembering student's names, especially the ones that came by his office regularly. Once they were both seated, Richie folded his arms on his desk and said, "What can I help you with, Charlotte?"

"Actually," she said, laying the text book on his desk. She crossed her legs and politely tugged the skirt of her dress down a little. "I was rather hoping I could help you with something." She nodded toward the textbook and gently said, "Take it. It's for you."

With a raised eyebrow that gave off Richie's obvious confusion, the blond reached out across his desk and wrapped his hand around the spine of the book, pulling it toward him. It was not every day that a student gave their professor a gift, and the gracious act had certainly caught Richie off guard. However, once Richie caught sight of the title of said book, any confusion he may have felt immediately dissipated and was promptly replaced with shock and awe, and he even gasped a little bit.

"Now, please don't think that I'm trying to bribe you into giving me an A, because I am most certainly not," Charlotte explained lightheartedly with a soft laugh. "My father gave it to me. I recognized it as the book you were talking about in class a couple weeks ago, and I thought you might like to have it," she explained. She went on to tell Richie about how her great-grandfather had been a physicist many moons ago and that the book had been passed down to her grandfather, then to her dad, and now her dad had given it to her.

Richie looked up past the rim of his glasses that had fallen down the bridge of his nose. The confusion had plastered itself back on his face. As he pushed his glasses back up, he began to speak. "Oh, Charlotte, why are you giving it to me? You should keep it if it's been in your family so long," he insisted, and pushed the book back toward his student.

Charlotte sat up a little straighter, waving her hands in protest. "Oh, no, Professor Foley, I don't need it. That book is so outdated for what I am going to be doing with a Physics degree. I don't plan to do research like my father and grandfather, but that's what you do, so you should have it. You'll more use out of it."

Richie's features softened and a warm smile flitted across his lips. Biting his lower lip, the blond pulled the back toward him. Gathering it in his arms, he picked himself up from his seat and walked over to his bookshelf. Finding an empty spot on the top shelf, he placed the book so that the front cover was facing toward the room. Taking a few steps back, a bigger smile graced his features and he turned back toward Charlotte. "Thank you so much, Charlotte. I really do appreciate this gift." He would have hugged her had she not been his student and had the door not been closed.

"You're very welcome, Professor Foley," Charlotte said warmly and picked herself up off her seat as well. She walked up to Richie with only about a foot or so left between them. She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Merry Christmas, Professor Foley. I'm glad you decided to come to this university," she said and walked from the room.

Once Charlotte was gone, Richie walked back around his desk and sat down. Glancing up at his bookshelf, he smiled to himself. He supposed these were the times when teaching really did pay off, no matter how stressful the job could be.

Leaning back into his seat, he felt his stomach growling and frowned. He realized just how long it had been since he ate. There was of course nothing to eat in his office, and he would not be getting off work for another five hours. _Why do I never pack myself an extra lunch on these days?_ Richie thought to himself and clicked his tongue.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he went back to the trance he had been before Charlotte came in. He didn't have to be to his next class for another hour yet, and he had nothing else to do until then.

He thought, for just a moment, before someone else came knocking at his door, that it seemed like a sad life when the happiest part of it was students who listened to _anything_ he said. He wondered if any of his students realized he was not happy. Not exactly with the teaching, but in general.

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><p>Inhaling deeply, Virgil let out the breath as a groan and hoisted himself up from the insanely uncomfortable desk chair he had been sitting in for more than five hours. Clients and coworkers had been in and out of his office all day long and it was about time that he got a moment to himself just to relax.<p>

Leaning over, he pressed a big red button his desk phone and said into the speaker, "Elaine?"

After a moment, a modulated female voice crackled in over the speaker. "Yes, Mr. Hawkins?"

"Do you I have any more appointments this evening?" The time was nearing 4:30 and Virgil was more than ready to go home and relax.

There was a long pause between the two before Elaine crackled back in. "It appears that you have one more—a Mr. Laurence. He should be here any minute, then you can head home, Mr. Hawkins."

Virgil sighed and shut his eyes momentarily. Elaine was rather optimistic; that was something Virgil had learned over the last sixteen years of her working for him (she began working for him when he first got the job). She knew as well as Virgil that Mr. Laurence was a rightful pain in the ass, and that there was no chance he was getting out of the office until at 6:00 PM _at the earliest_. Sitting back down at his desk, Virgil pressed the button again. "Thanks, Elaine."

"You're welcome, Mr. Hawkins." This time, her voice was filled with sympathy. She knew that Virgil was tired; he was always tired.

With a sigh, Virgil scratched his head. He still wore the same dreads that he had when he was fifteen years old, but at this point, they had grown out at least five or six inches, to the point Virgil pulled them back into a ponytail. Sure, it was a little bit unprofessional looking, but no one complained about it and he rather liked it. It was the one thing in his life he liked and he kept it.

Glancing over his desk, he caught sight of the pictures he saw every day. The first picture was of him and his family when he was little, so his mom was also in the picture. He kept it for obvious reasons. In the next picture were his father and Sharon the day that Sharon got married to Adam. Virgil would never admit to having the picture, and he certainly would never admit to actually finding her picture beautiful. In the third picture was a very beautiful, African-American woman holding a gorgeous little girl with black dreads that were dolled up with colorful beads. She was no older than two in the picture. Their names were Angelica and Chloé', respectively. Until five years ago, Angelica had been his wife and Chloé was his daughter.

Now eight years old, Virgil got partial custody of his daughter, meaning that he got to see her during Christmas and every other Thanksgiving. Angelica would rather have had full custody, but Virgil had made a pretty good case to the courts as to why he should still get to see his daughter, so they had granted him that. While Angelica had been pissed, Chloé was filled with pure ecstasy about it.

Then there was a fourth picture. This one was of him and Richie right after their college graduation. They looked so happy, and it saddened Virgil because no one would have honestly ever guessed that just two short months later…

There was a loud pounding at the door, and Virgil immediately felt a headache coming on. It was Mr. Laurence, he knew, because no one else pounded at his door like that. "Come in, Mr. Laurence," Virgil groaned, knowing at this point that the man barging through his door never paid much attention to his emotions, anyway. Going through the motions, Virgil listened to the man on the other side of his desk growl about this thing and that thing that Virgil could or should be doing.

All Virgil wanted was to leave for the week, pick up his daughter, and spend another Christmas with Chloé. At least he would have a week where he wouldn't be lonely for once.

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><p><strong>AN**: Ha. This was originally supposed to be a one-shot about Virgil and Richie's (romantic) relationship as adults but, as luck would have it, Virgil and Richie refused to cooperate with me (*whispers* I think they've been fighting...) and this is what I ended up with. I hope you liked it. There will be more. **Please review!**


	2. Chapter II

****Disclaimer****: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful lives through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

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><p>Saturday mornings for Richie normally consisted of black coffee, a newspaper, and a piece of nearly burnt buttered toast. During the week off for winter vacation, Richie spent his Saturday morning sleeping. Except on this particular morning, he was not doing either of those things. The blond super-genius was found sitting on his living room, sorting through old photos to put in frames.<p>

Several months ago, Richie had finally moved back to Dakota after being away from his hometown for nearly two decades. After undergraduate at Dakota University, he pursued a graduate program in Physics at University at Albany. Once graduated, he immediately was offered a job as a Graduate Research Assistant, making roughly $30,000. Going for a Ph.D. finally led Richie to a career as a professor.

If any Jane or John Doe were to ask Richie why he accepted a job at Dakota University, he would tell him that it paid more. While the job did pay more, there were details he hid. Richie liked working at University at Albany; everything about the atmosphere was generally lighter and freer than Dakota University. However, he took the job because it was convenient.

Fifteen years ago—a year after he began teaching—Richie met a man named Michael Tabby. Mike, as most knew him by, was an art instructor at the same university Richie taught. One afternoon, Richie let his class out early because he was hungry. He went down to the cafeteria where he happened upon Mike, who was picking through pieces of lettuce at the salad bar.

"_What are you doing?" _Richie had asked as he eyed Mike's odd behavior. When brown eyes met Richie's blue eyes, he was instantly smitten.

"_These pieces,"_ Mike replied, holding up an example with the tongs, _"are wilted, and I don't like them."_ The explanation was paired with a humeral bout of facial expressions.

The two thusly introduced themselves, and sat down to enjoy their lunches together. It had not been until later that Richie finally worked up the nerve to ask Mike out to lunch. When that went well, a few more lunches led to a couple of dinners which eventually led to some 'after dinner desert,' and eventually the two became an item a year later. They dated for almost fifteen years.

In his sort through the pictures, Richie came across the last picture he and Mike took together. It was the two of them, looking happier than ever at an amusement park. There was nothing about the picture that showed unhappiness. Being the super-genius he was, Richie stared at the picture, examining every square inch, in an effort to find any kind of foreshadowing. He saw nothing. Where had their relationship started to go wrong? The thought planted itself as he drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. Just as his chin met his kneecaps, tears met his cheeks. Why had Mike cheated on him? What had Richie done to deserve that?

So, when the job offer from Dakota University arrived in his email a month later, Richie took it as a sign that he needed to start fresh; especially since taking the job meant also getting condo. Of course it was bribery, but it was a bribe that Richie needed, since he had been living out of a hotel for a month. In his pained and tearful fury, Richie collected everything that was his, threw the 'promise ring' at Mike, and stormed out. He was not one to talk things like that out. Richie was a realist, and realistically, he did not want to be with a cheater. No matter how much it broke his heart.

Flicking the picture away, Richie reached into the box for another one. This one caused the same flow of tears and a little added anger.

The picture Richie grasped between his fingers was taken right after his graduation from Dakota University. This one was a lot like the previous one, with him and Mike: it was a last. Right before the picture had been taken, Virgil jumped on Richie's back, making the 'rock on' sign. Richie's face was barely caught by the camera because he had been about to fall over. Despite the fact that you could barely see him, Richie had loved the picture. He loved it because of Virgil.

Richie loved it because he had loved Virgil. Perhaps still did.

After twenty years, Richie was still furious. He had every right to be. Two months after graduation, Richie finally came out. Much to Richie's absolute delight, the whole experience went better than a dream. Virgil loved him, too. That night was a memory he would have for the rest of his life. He was with his best friend, the man he loved, in every sense of the term. He had completely given himself to Virgil, and vice versa.

Richie squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not managing to stop the tears from flowing. He dropped the picture as he thought of everything that happened a week later. After they had sex, Virgil disappeared and no one knew where. A week later, Virgil returned, married to a woman named Angelica. Richie was devastated, mortified, and pissed. The fight in their HQ had been ugly, to say the least.

"_How COULD YOU?" _Richie had screamed at Virgil, standing face-to-face with his soon-to-be ex best friend. _"I thought you loved me! Virgil, WE HAD SEX!"_

"_I do love you, Richie, but it was just sex! Yes, there were emotions, but… you didn't honestly expect us to be a couple, did you? Richie, I don't love you like that…"_

"_Oh my, Go—YES! YES I DID! Are you fucking kidding me right now?" _Richie bellowed, almost causing the abandoned to rattle. Then the realization of Virgil's words hit, and Richie became absolutely irate and started yelling. _"You fucking used me, you ass; how fucking dare you use me!" _

The fight became really ugly, really fast. In his fury, Richie began picking up things while screaming and hurtling them at Virgil, who simply ricocheted them with his static powers without exerting much energy. When the items being hurtled became heavier, Virgil replied by shooting bolts of lightning at Richie. It was at that moment they began screaming at one another. The blond successfully dodged the bolts, a skill he picked up after years of fighting crime. During Virgil's last attempt to throw a bolt at Richie, the super-genius managed to somehow collect water without the other boy noticing, and dowsed Virgil with it, causing him to quickly loose his charge.

Virgil had a hurt look on his face that nowhere near compared to the one Richie had. Richie's features could have put a sad puppy to shame. _"We're supposed to be _best friends_, Virgil. How_ fucking dare you _take my _virginity_ and then run off and marry someone else _without even talking to me first!_" _he said, bending over and getting in Virgil's face. Virgil had fallen after the sudden discharge. _"I'm not sure what hurts more, honestly. The fact that you _broke my fucking heart _or you went off and got married and didn't even _fucking _tell me." _Richie stood and threw the bucket at Virgil, glaring down at him. _"Have a nice life. I don't want to be part of it anymore."_

Then he was gone, and it had been twenty years since Richie saw Virgil. Never once had Richie figured he overreacted. Richie had done the same exact thing with Mike when he discovered the man was cheating. Richie did not let people play with his heart. However, the only difference with Virgil… was that Richie didn't still miss Mike. Every thought of Virgil was still as painful as it was the day Virgil came back with Angelica. How could Virgil honestly have expected Richie to be happy for him? Of course Richie understood that maybe Virgil was scared to be with a man, but running off for a week and then coming back married without so much as an explanation was what had pissed off Richie.

Richie supposed, perhaps, Virgil would have said that had Richie given him a chance.

Not that Richie felt Virgil deserved one; a chance, that is. They were supposed to have been best friends. If Virgil had been scared, then he could have said something about it. Sometimes Virgil's lack of expressive emotion had been a piss off. After everything with Virgil and Mike, Richie really was done trusting people.

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><p><strong>AN**: I know I did a pretty successful job of making Virgil seem like a complete and total ass. Though, if I remember correctly, he can be pretty thoughtless sometimes. This time just destroyed his friendship! Also, this chapter is more background, but it's also a transition into the rest of the story. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this!


	3. Chapter III

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful lives through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

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><p>Sitting at the kitchen table, Virgil outstretched his hands and watched his long, slender fingers shake slightly, uncontrollably. He sighed as he unsuccessfully willed them to stop.<p>

Sighing again, Virgil pocketed his hands and glanced up at the wall clock. It was 7:42 in the morning; his daughter would be getting up in about fifteen minutes, which meant Virgil had enough time to step outside.

Every morning for five years, Virgil would stand on his balcony and have a cigarette; he particularly liked Pall Mall Orange because they were cheap, ultra light, burned longer than most cigarettes, and adequately gave him the buzz he was after. He used it as a mechanism to cope with his day. Ever since his divorce from Angelica, and the court ruling for partial custody of his daughter, Virgil had figured he deserved something to ease the stress, and since his late uncle had been an alcoholic—may his soul rest in peace—drinking was out of the question.

Leaning against the railing, Virgil inhaled the smoke from his cigarette deeply, held it momentarily, and released it slowly along with a satisfied sigh. Crossing his left arm over his chest, he rested his right elbow on his left hand. His head slumped down as an all-to-familiar cheerless expression crossed his features. Meanwhile, the well-known feeling of contentment overtook his body and he began to relax.

Virgil inhaled again, held the smoke to feel the buzz, and once again let it go with a puff, creating a well-practiced ring.

Concurrently, the hand held closest to his body created small bolts of electricity. Virgil had long ago deduced that he did it to be sure he still could. His electric powers had been one of the few things he was increasingly proud of as a teenager, and it was one of the few things he was proud of now. He had to know he still had control of something, even if it meant making small circles in the air while smoking in the morning.

Another a quick inhale: hold it in, release.

At this point, the buzz Virgil was after was finally starting to set in. He moaned softly and let his eyes flutter shut as the good-feelings of the buzz took over his brain, melting away any stress, anxiety and all the negativity.

A deeper inhale, held for several minutes, and then let out, the smoking dissipating around Virgil's body. The smell of nicotine wafted in Virgil's face due to a south-blowing wind, causing Virgil to relax further.

As far as Virgil was concerned, his electrokinesis was his last remaining tie to his teenage years, which were arguably the best years of his life, even if there really wasn't much of an argument. Virgil yearned for the years when the only thing he had to worry about was the fate of Dakota. Albeit, a superhero was a pretty big responsibility for a teenager, but it was better than a divorce, a pile of bills, a job, a daughter (though he would never trade Chloé for anything), and a twenty-year shattered friendship.

A long drag, held seemingly forever, let out with a long and content sigh. Virgil flicked the butt off the side of the balcony but remained leaning against the railing.

Oh, and an addiction to nicotine.

Yeah, being a teenager had certainly been a lot better than this.

A thought skirted through Virgil's mind: Thirty years ago, he had accidentally gone to the future and met his adult self. The man he was now, but not really. The man Virgil had met was a hero. He was a protector and a fighter of evil. He had a wife, a kid and was, perhaps most importantly, still friends with Richie.

What had happened to make his life turn out so differently than what he had seen? Where had everything gone wrong? Had he messed up his future like he had been warned not to do?

Before Virgil got the chance to mull over his thoughts further, a small voice uttered his alias from the entrance to the apartment. Virgil quickly pocketed the pack of cigarettes and lighter, that had been previously resting on the railing, in the pouch of the hoodie, hoping Chloé hadn't seen his possessions.

"Hi, Daddy," Chloé said, walking outside to stand next to Virgil. A smiling face looked up at Virgil, standing about a foot and a half shorter than him. Chloé wrapped her arms around Virgil's waist and gave him a hug.

"Good morning, Chloé," Virgil said and returned the hug to his daughter. "Did you sleep well?"

Chloé pulled out of the hug after a beat and sat down in a nearby chair. As she nodded, she gave Virgil a vocal reply. "Yes."

"Good," Virgil said with a warm smile. He would never admit it to anyone, but only seeing his daughter once or twice a year made talking to her feel pretty awkward. Sure they talked on the phone sometimes, but it was still hard to make conversation. He didn't know what she liked. "I guess you want some breakfast, huh?"

"That's okay, Daddy," Chloé said with a smile. "I had some cereal before I came out here."

"Oh," Virgil said. He ran his hands through his dreads and sighed softly. When had his daughter gotten so mature? He still remembered her being a little girl, and now she was feeding herself.

Chloé caught on to the awkwardness Virgil felt and smiled. Even though Chloé was only eight, she was developed way beyond her years. Unfortunately, the divorce of her parents forced her to grow up a little bit faster than the rest of the kids in her class. She was almost like an adult in the body of a beautiful, dread-locked little girl, who looked strikingly like Jean Hawkins, and from who Chloé got her middle name.

"Daddy," Chloé said, giggling softly, "I'm your daughter. You don't have to feel weird around me." She leaned forward and patted the side of Virgil's knee.

Virgil ran his hand through his dreads again and his cheeks burned from a blush he was thankful Chloé couldn't see. Letting out a breathy laugh, Virgil noticeably relaxed and took a seat next to Chloé. "I'm sorry, baby," he said and ruffled his daughter's hair briefly.

Chloé shrugged but her smile didn't dissipate. "It' okay, Daddy, I understand. You don't seem me that often." It was almost frightening how understanding and mature Chloé was, but Virgil appreciated having such a mature daughter, nevertheless. He was especially thankful for the next thing she said. "Want to hear about my best friend Rachael, Daddy?"

Virgil smiled; a genuine smile that wrinkled his nose and showed off his white teeth. "Sure; I would love to hear about Rachael."

"Great!" Chloé exclaimed.

Immediately, Chloé dove into a vivid description of a little Caucasian girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Chloé explained that Rachael was one of the smartest people in school; she was good at math and reading and writing and she always got straight 'A's. She even spent a few moments raving about how pretty she thought Rachael was and how her blonde hair was really soft. Chloé ended her fifteen minute explanation with how she hoped she and Rachael would be friends for a long time.

"Do you have a friend like that, Daddy?"

Virgil blinked, realizing his attention had drifted sometime during her explanation. Thankfully he was still able to recall what Chloé had said. "What?" he asked, locking his chocolate eyes with smaller chestnut brown once.

"Do you have a friend like Rachael, Daddy?" Chloé asked again, a little more specifically.

"Oh," Virgil said. For a few moments, his attention diverted to the ground. Did he have a friend like Rachael? Well, no, not really. Not anymore. He had screwed up that friendship a long time ago. He debated for a moment even telling Chloé about Richie.

"I used to," Virgil finally said, his gaze meeting Chloé's once more.

Chloé raised an eyebrow and met Virgil's gaze in return. "You used to? Well, how come not anymore?"

Virgil shrugged. "Uh…" How could Virgil explain this so it would make sense to his daughter? He hesitated for a few minutes as he mulled over his thoughts as they raced into the forefront for his mind.

"What was he like?" Chloé asked, deciding maybe a different question would be better, having noticed her father's hesitation with the previous question.

Well, that one was easy to answer. "He was a lot like Rachael, actually. He had blond hair and blue eyes and he was really, really smart. Easily he was the smartest person I knew," he said, even if that was the understatement of the century. Richie was easily the smartest person currently living. He explained how Richie always got straight 'A's in high school and college. "This one time," Virgil began, smiling at the memory, "He got a B- on a test and completely—" he made a chopping motion with his hand for emphasis "—freaked out about."

Chloé laughed and smiled throughout the story. For a moment, she even wished he could meet him. So she said that to her father. "He sounds really nice. Wish I could meet him."

The smile on Virgil's face faded a little bit. "I would like to see him again," Virgil admitted and nodded. "I miss him a lot." Again, that was a huge understatement. Part of the reason Virgil had taken up smoking was due to the lack of Richie in his life. The divorce, bills, and his daughter were all things he could handle, but Richie not being his life was more than he could handle. The constant memories of blond did not help either.

There was a few moments of silence between Chloé and Virgil in which they were both very much lost in their own thoughts. Nearly five minutes had passed before Chloé finally spoke.

"You know, I bet I could find him."

Virgil blinked. "What?"

"Richie," Chloé said, as if that had been what Virgil was questioning. "I bet I can find him."

"Chloé, honey, how could you possibly know where to find Richie? I'm don't even sure where he lives."

Chloé shook her hand in tune with her shaking head. "I'm good at finding people, Daddy."

Virgil sighed. He began to flick the finger nail of his ring finger against the pad of his thumb as he thought. He wasn't questioning Chloé's ability to find people—Virgil was sure she was—but finding Richie was little harder than finding people during a game of Hide and Go Seek.

"Do you have a picture of him?"

"Why?"

"I need it," Chloé said matter-of-factly. "It's okay if it's a little old," she said, figuring Virgil didn't have a current one. "It will still work. I just need an idea of what he looks like."

This child could not seriously be eight.

Virgil sighed heavily and deeply. He debated questioning his daughter, but finally decided it best to just go along with it. "I'll be right back," he said and disappeared into the apartment. He ventured down the hall to grab the picture he kept on his dresser.

About two minutes later, he came back with a framed picture and handed it to Chloé. "Here," he said and sat back down in his previous seat.

"Thank you, Daddy." Chloé set the picture on her lap and looked down at it. She smiled at what she saw. The man on the left was obviously her father, but he looked a lot younger and didn't have any facial hair. His hair was a lot shorter, too, but still in dreads. The man on the right, she assumed, was Richie. Chloé could see where Richie looked like her friend. His hair was kind of shaggy and long and his eyes were really blue.

"He's kind of cute," Chloé pointed out nonchalantly.

Virgil's mind reeled for a moment. Chloé might as well have been thirteen years old, considering how mature she was. She was a thirteen year old who looked eight; this was a fact Virgil would have been certain of had he not been in the delivery room the night of her birth. It was like she could look like a little girl without actually being one. Nevertheless, Chloé would still always bee his little girl, Virgil was positive of that fact.

Laughing, Virgil relaxed into the seat a little bit. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. "Yeah," he agreed, "h-he was pretty easy on the eyes." Even if Richie had certainly been a lot more than just 'easy on the eyes,' now was not the time to admit his entire life story to his daughter.

Another pause fell between them, but was quickly interrupted with a question from Virgil. "So," he said, sitting just up slightly, "how exactly do you plan to find him?" It wasn't like Virgil honestly thought his daughter could find people. Especially someone Virgil hadn't seen or heard from in twenty years.

That was, of course, unless Chloé had some sort of secret power for finding... missing… people...

_Oh. Shit._

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><p><strong>AN**: Aha. Have I mentioned how I love cliffhangers? 'Cause I do! Actually, I wasn't intending on this being a cliffhanger chapter, but this just seemed like an awesome place to stop.

Have I also mentioned this story is a tad AU? If not, then I'm saying it now: This fan-fiction is a tad AU. So, please don't hate me for making him a smoker… or for giving him a random alcoholic uncle…

Also, something else I wanted to mention. In "Future Shock," Batman (at least I think that's who it was) keeps saying to Virgil not to do something will fuck up his future. So what do I do? Just that! We'll find out what he did later on, okay? Okay.

I do claim to have any adequate knowledge of the legal system. So if I'm fucking it up, you're more than welcome to let me know.

Anyway, please review._** PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW.**_ I have cookies for my reviewers! –Tosses cookies–


	4. Chapter IV

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Nine o'clock in the morning. It hadn't even been two hours yet, but Virgil was already watching his hands shake. They shook a little more violently than usual, which was honestly frightening for Virgil. Was he really this addicted to nicotine? Moaning airily, Virgil shoved his hands in his hoodie and clenched his fingers around the pack of cigarettes. Momentarily, he worried he was crushing them, but more pressing matters shoved their way into his mind and replaced the concern.<p>

Perhaps in the back of his mind, Virgil always knew Chloé was destined to become a second generation bang baby, but that didn't change the sliver of hope Virgil had that she could be spared with a normal life.

A thought crossed Virgil's mind just then: How long had Chloé been clairvoyant? (Virgil was pretty sure that was the world for it. He had met a superhero in his early twenties that claimed to be clairvoyant and did what Chloé could do.) Come to think of it, Virgil realized, why did Chloé seem so nonchalant about this ability of hers?

It was then that he became outwardly panicked, clenching the pack tighter, as he realized he had never even taken into account his ex-wife. The emotions he felt must have flickered across his face because Virgil gained astonishing concern from his daughter.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Chloé asked, her tone laden with concern. Her worried eyes were fixated on Virgil, causing her to break the concentration and focus she had put on the picture.

Virgil nearly jerked his head to face Chloé at the sound of her voice. Groaning softly—as the sudden movement of his head caused dizziness—Virgil pressed his slender fingers against his forehead, a headache developing behind his eyes. Virgil nodded softly and gently shut his eyes. "I'm fine, baby," he said as sweetly as he could muster. "I just have a headache," he grimaced.

Chloé laid the picture down on the table and got up in front of her father, her features radiating a loving, tender smile. She gingerly wrapped his strength in an even stronger hug, laying her cheek on his shoulder. To Chloé's delight, it only took Virgil a few moments to relax. He returned the hug with just as much force as Chloé was giving, causing his little girl to giggle from the facial hair that tickled her skin. Virgil couldn't help grinning against Chloé, cherishing the sound of that giggle. He kissed her jawline gently, making her squirm and giggle again.

Kissing Virgil's cheek in return, Chloé said, "You feel better, Daddy?"

Virgil drew in a long, deep breath through his nose. Much like when he had a cigarette, he held it for a few seconds, relishing in the sensation of his expanded lungs and the way it made him feel. When he finally let out the breath, he did it very, very slowly. Letting go of his daughter, Virgil sat back in his seat, instantaneously realizing how much calmer he had become. His fingers had even stopped shaking, and his headache was dissipating.

"What happened, Daddy? Are you okay?" Chloé asked, still standing in front of Virgil. She had to make sure her father was really okay before sitting back down.

Smiling warmly, Virgil lifted his hand and placed it on Chloé's soft cheek. Chloé responded by leaning her hand against Virgil's hand and returning the smile. "I'm okay, baby girl," he said, "I was just a little panicky."

Chloé knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. "Why, Daddy?"

Laughing breathily, Virgil laid his hand back in his lap, keeping eye contact with Chloé. "I got scared," he started, "because you said you were good at finding people." He paused for a minute and thought over his next statement. "I guess I got scared for two reasons," he explained, "because I'm not sure if I'm ready to see Richie again. It's been so long and I don't think he likes me anymore.

"I also got scared for you, because having that kind of ability is a big responsibility."

"Clairvoyant. My ability is that I'm clairvoyant." When her vocabulary awarded her a look of astonishment, Chloé grinned and continued. "I looked it up on mom's laptop," she said, "when I realized I could find people I don't know and only look at their picture."

"How long have you been clairvoyant? Do you know?"

Chloé shook her head. "Since forever, I guess," she said seriously. "I started really noticing it a couple months ago, though."

"You weren't scared?" Virgil asked, remembering how confused he had been when he had developed electrokinesis. He was just happy that Richie had been there for him.

Chloé shook her head with a confident smile. "Well, maybe a little bit," she admitted, her nose wrinkling from a blushing smile. "I talked to Rachael about it in school, though. She thought it was really cool and asked how I was able to do it. I said I had no idea," Chloé said with a shrug, "but she promised not to tell anyone if I promised not to use it during hide-and-seek."

Virgil cleared his throat, laughing a little bit at the last comment, amused by the legitimate concerns of eight year olds. Then his thoughts diverged into two different paths. Most of all, Virgil really wanted to know if Angelica knew about Chloé. He also debated whether or not he should tell Chloé that she had gotten her powers from him. After much debating, he decided to leave both of those topics for a conversation another time. The two topics really seemed to go hand-in-hand and Virgil wasn't quite ready to tell his daughter he was an ex-superhero.

So, he opted for changing the topic. "I don't think we should try and find Richie right now, baby girl," Virgil admitted. While he wanted to be reunited with Richie in the absolute worst way, Virgil was more than positive that after what he had done all those years ago, Richie would be satisfied never seeing him again. Not that Virgil really blamed Richie; he wouldn't want to see himself again, either. And all that aside, there was absolutely no telling (well, except for Chloé's clairvoyance, Virgil supposed) where Richie was living, and Virgil wasn't prepared to make to make such a trip.

"Besides," Virgil said, standing up from the seat, once again almost towering his daughter. After grabbing the picture from the table, he smiled down at Chloé as she looked up at him, and said, "We have some Christmas shopping to do. Christmas is on Thursday. You want a bunch of presents this year, don't you?" he rhetorically as he headed for the sliding door.

"Well, being with you is already the best present ever, Daddy," Chloé said, running after Virgil who was already standing in the living room. She looked up at her beaming father and said, "But yes, I want a bunch of presents."

Virgil laughed, pressed his hand to his forehead and eyes, and shook his head ever so slightly. "You're such a sweetheart, Chloé," he said with a small laugh and a big smile. "Go get dressed."

Chloé's brown eyes were big and bright as she exclaimed, "Okay, Daddy! I love you, too, Daddy!" and ran down the hallway to her bedroom, and suddenly Virgil saw the little girl hidden behind all that maturity. The little girl Virgil was proud to say had possession of his heart, soul, and life. The little girl he loved as much as he had loved Richie.

With a sigh, Virgil walked down the same hall to his own bedroom located across from Chloé's. Once in his room, Virgil put the picture back on the dresser and watched it for a few moments.

"Merry Christmas, Richie," he said solemnly, and began to get dressed.

Virgil hadn't noticed Chloé standing in his doorway, tentatively watching him with an expression as solemn as her father's. There had to be something Chloé could do to help her father feel genuine happiness, she thought as she walked away to the living room.

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><p><strong>AN**: I just want to say that I am beside myself with the reviews and story alerts this work has been receiving. I knew I was writing for a rather inactive fandom, so the fact that so many people are reading and enjoy my story makes me feel so freaking amazing. I just wanted to give a shout out to everyone that's reading this and let you all know that I really, really appreciate you! Cookies for everyone! *tosses cookies about* =D

Sorry this chapter isn't quite as long as the past ones. But I think I made up for it in ridiculously adorable father/daughter mushiness!

As always, please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! There's cookies in it for you!


	5. Chapter V

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

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><p>"Let's start with you, I guess. Tell me about yourself."<p>

A man, who went by the name of Jonathan, sat across from Richie at a quaint café in Gotham on a particularly warm Sunday afternoon, clad in a blue blazer with matching suit pants, a white dress shirt and a black tie. Jonathan shifted in his seat slightly, awkwardly. Clearing his throat casually, Jonathan's bright brown eyes darted across the room, as if what he should say could be tangibly found within the walls they were confined. Nervously, he began to speak.

"Well, I—I own my own business…" Jonathan began, and as soon as he started speaking, Richie zoned out.

This Sunday brunch with Jonathan was part of a long list of first dates Richie had had since his breakup from Mike. He wasn't sure if he was actually ready to be dating, but at the age of 42, Richie desperately felt his life flying by and wanted someone to permanently settle down with. So he continually agreed to a series of blind dates one of his coworkers always organized. It didn't take long, though, for Richie to realize that not only did Jonathan not want what Richie wanted, but the man was a longshot from his type. Richie had come to not expect much else, because that was how it always was. Richie had never really met another man that shared the same interests as him; someone that he could fully connect with.

Well, no one except for Virgil. Not even Mike had ever been fully interested in Richie's intelligence. While Virgil obviously never understood what Richie was talking about, at least he tried to understand and come across as at least somewhat interested.

But that was in the past; Richie was moving on, and he was on a date. Besides, Richie was still mad at Virgil, and even if he somehow ran into him again, Richie was positive he would never be able to bring himself to trust him like he had.

"What about you?" Jonathan asked, pulling Richie out of his thoughts.

Richie blinked and realized he hadn't even been listening to Jonathan's speech; he couldn't seem to recall anything the man across from him had said. He blinked again. "What?"

"Tell me about you," Jonathan prompted with a raised eyebrow. "What do you do?"

"Oh," Richie said bleakly. Sighing, he slumped in his seat and scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms. "Well, I'm a professor at Dakota University. I teach Physics."

"That's neat," Jonathan said, leaning toward Richie a little bit and resting on his elbows. Any other person may have believed Jonathan was interested, but Richie could tell by the Jonathan's connected eyebrows and slight frown meant that caring really was the last thing Jonathan was doing. "Is there anything else?" Richie's date questioned.

Richie scratched the side of his forehead, his right nostril slightly flared, and his eyes focused on the table. "Um, I have a black Persian cat named Aria. She's twenty years old." Maybe Richie was intentionally being boring, but he honestly knew for a fact he and Jonathan weren't going anywhere.

"Wow, that's pretty old," Jonathan responded monotone. At that moment, Richie began cursing under his breath for ever agreeing to this blind date—for agreeing to any of them. Jonathan had to the rudest person Richie had ever met. He seemed to have a knack for finding the assholes.

There were several minutes of silence in which each of the men sipped at their coffee. Richie had plain black coffee while Jonathan had some sweet Frappuccino thing that Richie was sure tasted like a disgustingly over-sweetened cookie.

"Look," Richie said, putting his cup down on the table, preparing to reiterate for the umpteenth time his well-practiced lines of rejection. "You seem really nice man, Jonathan," he lied, "but I really don't think this is going to work." Richie let out a long sigh as he watched Jonathan's expression fall into a frown. Perhaps he was being a little harsh, Richie momentarily considered, but he was smart enough to know this blind date was never going to evolve into anything else. "I'm sorry," Richie offered, and scooted back from the table.

"It's alright," Jonathan replied with a sigh. "Thanks, anyway," he said and plastered on a half-smile. Quickly, he collected his coat he had taken off only moments prior and left the café without another word.

Now sitting alone, save for the barista and cashier behind the counter, Richie crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down on them. Letting out a low groan, Richie shut his eyes as he let himself get lost in his thoughts.

Just the previous morning, Richie had been sitting on his floor crying because he had been sorting through pictures of him and Mike and then some of him and Virgil. Now he was sitting alone in a café, in the wakes of another failed attempt to find a long-lasting relationship. This should not have been so hard; it should have been so much easier to meet another man. He had done it easily enough sixteen years ago with Mike; he could do it again, couldn't he?

Richie was positive knew the problem. He was still in love with Virgil. He even considered maybe it had been what drove Mike to another man, but Richie was also positive he had loved Mike fully, with all his heart, because he had. Why couldn't Richie just be mad at Virgil and never want to see him again? Why did he still love someone who hurt him so terribly? At that point, Richie began to rhythmically hit his forehead against his arms at the realization of how fucked up his life was.

The worst part was that Richie was positive that Virgil was living a happier life than he was, and it practically sickened him. How fair was it that Virgil broke Richie's heart and then got to be happier?

"Are you okay, dear?" said a female voice. Richie jerked when he felt a hand placed tenderly on his back.

"'M fine," Richie mumbled.

"I don't think you are, honey," said the voice. Richie groaned internally when he heard a chair being scooted, knowing that the female was sitting down beside him. "There's no one else in this café but my coworker, and you look like you need someone to talk to."

This time Richie vocally groaned, but after a few moments he sat up. Letting out a puff over air and pushing hair from his face, he examined the woman sitting beside him. She was thin and well-endowed (even a gay man was capable of noticing when a woman had nice breasts), mimicking a perfectly sculpted hourglass figure. Her hair was long, lying gracefully around her heart-shaped face. Her skin was a creamy chocolate color, leading Richie to figure she was African-American. From her nametag, Richie noted that her name was Angel.

"It's nothing important," Richie finally said and laid his head back down on his crossed arms. He continued to speak in a mumbled tone. "I need to get home. My cat is probably pissed because she hasn't eaten since early this morning."

As if ignoring what Richie had said, Angel asked, "You're from Dakota?"

"Yes. How do you know that? And why do you care?" Richie asked, a little ruder than he had meant to, but he was tired and frustrated.

Angel seemed to not be phased by Richie's snippy tone. "I overheard you telling that man you work as a professor at Dakota University." Angel paused and considered her next statement carefully, but finally said: "I used to live in Dakota about five years ago."

"Why did you move?" Richie mumbled, moving his head only slightly so that Angel could see his face. He had yet to fully sit up.

"I got divorced," Angel replied. She let out a sigh and got up to start wiping down some tables. She continued to talk to Richie as she cleaned. "My ex-husband was, and probably still is, in love with someone else. I don't think he knows I know, so I just told him we got divorced because he worked too much."

"Why not just tell him the truth?" Richie questioned. From obvious past experiences, Richie had never been one for people skirting around the truth and it sort of annoyed him when people did. Finally, Richie sat up and turned in his seat to watch Angel clean the table directly behind him. "Doesn't he deserve to know the truth?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Angel shrugged. Letting go of the rag, she turned to face Richie, and placed her hands on her hips. She gave Richie a once over and sighed, turning back to the task at hand. "No.

"Look, it's really complicated. He worked sixteen hours a day and then when he came home, he would stare at this stupid picture for an hour before coming to bed. Then the next day it was the same thing all over again. I would say we never had sex, but we managed to have a daughter. After fifteen years, I got sick of it, so I filed for divorce."

"Why did you wait so long?"

Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose momentarily. "I don't know. I guess because I hoped maybe it would change." Angel shook her head slightly, leaving Richie to figure she was mulling over thoughts of how ridiculous it was to assume someone could change. It was a thought Richie had often. "By the time I realized he wasn't going to change, I was already pregnant. It took me three years after she was born to get out."

Richie had left Mike as soon as he discovered he was cheating, so Richie was confused. "I'm sorry I keep asking you questions about your life, Angel, but I have just one more," Richie said and cleared his throat. When he saw Angel look up and smile, he asked, "Why didn't you file for divorce as soon as you realized it wasn't going to change?"

"Oh, that's easy," Angel began as she looked back to see some customers coming into the café. As she made her way back to the counter, she looked over her shoulder and said to Richie, "I stayed so long after our daughter was born because babies are expensive, and he makes a lot of money." Angel shrugged once behind the counter. "Maybe that's not very nice, but he didn't love me, so I figured the least he could do was pay for his daughter." After taking the customers' orders, she looked back to Richie and said, "She's still expensive, but the child support I get from him is amazing; almost $3000 a month."

A whistle inadvertently left Richie's lips at the number. A quick mental calculation presented Richie with knowledge that Angel's ex-husband made about two hundred grand. Not even Richie made nearly that much money. He couldn't help but wonder what her ex-husband did for a living, but he figured it wasn't his place to ask; he didn't even feel comfortable knowing how much someone he'd never met made for a living.

"Sweetie," Angel said, breaking Richie of his thoughts. "Try not to worry too much about finding a man. It'll happen when you least expect it," she said with a smile which earned her a warm smile from Richie. Deciding she had done her duty, Angel turned away from Richie and began cleaning up the supplies she had just used.

Maybe Angel was right; maybe he needed to stop worrying about finding a relationship and let it come as it would. The only problem was it didn't stop Richie from seeing his life pass right before him, and that he desperately wanted to find someone to share it with.

And it definitely did not change the fact—for the first time in his life—he would be spending Christmas completely alone. Sure his cat would be there—and he did have an aunt, but she disapproved of his lifestyle, so Richie opted for never seeing her—and while Richie loved his cat like a daughter, Aria wasn't exactly a great conversationalist. Not just because she was a cat, but also because she was completely deaf.

With a sigh of contentment, Richie picked himself up from the seat he occupied and headed for the door, thanking Angel with a warm smile for the talk and the coffee. Once he was safely in his car, Richie began the fifteen minute trip back to Dakota. For the first time in a while, Richie was actually feeling pretty good.

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><p><strong>AN**: Oh, shit, guys, plot twist! Brownies for anyone who figured out who Angel is!

You would not believe how long this chapter took me to write. I think I redid it 10-15 times (for some reason, introducing Richie into the story was painfully difficult), but I'm pleased with the outcome of this chapter.

And holy old cat, Batman. (By the way, Aria's name is pronounce R-ee-uh. It's an Italian name meaning "lioness." For a cat. Aha. Richie's so creative!) I'll briefly discuss Aria more in the next chapter. There's more about Richie to come!

Thanks to all my readers who have been keeping up with my story! I really, really appreciate it!

As always, please review! Constructive criticism is still welcome! I just made some fresh baked cookies!


	6. Chapter VI

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Richie gave a long sigh as he lied back on the couch, the book that his student, Charlotte, had given just a couple days prior in hand. While he had spent the majority of the evening on Friday reading through the book—quickly realizing he already knew everything in it and that most of the information was out-of-date—he was reading it now because he had nothing else to do. As well, he had seen something about heat transfer he wanted to read more thoroughly.<p>

Almost an hour later, Richie realized he could barely recall what had read. He found himself more preoccupied thinking about Angel and their conversation earlier that afternoon. Some of the biggest questions blowing through Richie's mind were: Why had Angel confided in him so much about her life? Did she do that with all her customers who looked miserable? Perhaps Richie was overthinking the meeting but, in reality, he overthought everything. Richie was blessed with the miraculous ability to never shut off his brain.

It was a blessing as much as a curse, especially right around the time everyone else was in bed.

Until a decade ago, Richie had been able to shut his brain off long enough to enjoy fun things like watching mindless movies with Virgil or going to a football game. Once he got accepted to grad school, though, he found himself unable to stop thinking and, as a result, developed insomnia. The problem only got worse as the years progressed.

Currently, Richie was taking 1500mg of Seroquel XR because, without it, Richie literally did not sleep. By the time he went to the doctor, he had not slept for nearly two weeks. He was so sleep deprived that he had a migraine and debilitating muscle cramps, was unable to remember anything (for which he apologized profusely to his boss and students later), his eyes were so bloodshot that he looks like he were doing drugs, and he was so stricken with anger and depression that Mike honestly thought Richie was bipolar. It was one of the most extreme cases of insomnia his doctor had ever seen. They prescribed him 25mg of Seroquel right off the bat, but before Richie was getting any sleep at all, he was 500mg. It took his current dosage just to get him through the night. Needless to say, Richie spent much of that year in and out of the hospital.

Richie was absolutely spent. He pushed himself up and set the book down on the cushion beside him. Clearing his throat, he stood up and began circling the living room, dining room and kitchen in search of his cat. Unless Richie took her upstairs to bed, those were the only three rooms Aria was ever in. It had taken a little bit of effort to teach her to stay in those three rooms, but her safety was important to Richie. Aria was like his daughter and she was all Richie had left. Losing her was a devastation Richie was and was not ready for; he knew it would happen, but he also knew he would be miserable when it did.

After five minutes of searching, Richie found her curled up under a chair in the dining room. Getting down on his hands and knees, he very gently scratched Aria's ear (to let her know it was him) and when she uncurled herself, yawning and stretching, Richie collected her in his arms and they headed down the hallway to the master bedroom. When Richie reached the bed, he set Aria down, letting her curl up on one of the pillows. Richie had bought a king-size bed after moving to Dakota for the sole purpose of letting Aria have one side of it.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Richie slowly began to undress. He slipped out of his jeans, letting them fall as pool of fabric at his feet. Stepping out of them, he knelt down to pick them up and tossed them at the laundry hamper across the room. He then did the same with the red t-shirt over a white long-sleeve shirt he wore. Once he was stripped down to just his boxers, Richie slipped out of those, too, letting them fall around his ankles in a similar fashion his jeans had. Lifting one leg, he pulled the garment from around his ankle and dropped them in the laundry basket as he passed it en route to the bathroom.

Mindlessly, Richie laid his hand on his thigh and scratched the mangled skin of his thirty year old gunshot wound as he began to brush his teeth. It wasn't that his wound itched; any nerve sensation he used to have had been destroyed by the bullet. He did it because he needed to know that part of his thigh was still there. Logically, of course, he knew that it was, but he couldn't feel it; it was like he had a gaping hole in his thigh. It was similar to the one he felt in his chest.

Once he finished brushing his teeth, washing his face and using the bathroom, Richie went back into his room and grabbed pajama pants and sat down on the bed. In his right hand he clutched the white and brown plaid flannel pajama pants he had chosen. Richie groaned, as his brain was on overdrive, but the thoughts were far from academic.

He was having vivid memories of being fifteen years old, in the community center, a group of scared kids standing around him while he was on the ground, clutching his leg, crying, hot tears burning his cheeks. It was the worst pain Richie had ever gone through, but somehow, as soon as Static showed up, the pain became somewhat manageable. It was still more pain than he could bear, and he certainly never wanted to experience it again, but with Static there—with Virgil by his side—he could get through it. The frightened expression his best friend had had was, for some reason, a comfort for Richie; someone was there, someone Richie loved, and it was going to be alright. He was going to be taken care of; Virgil would take care of him.

Richie groaned loudly and clutched his temples, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He did the best he could to banish the thoughts from his mind. He hated he still thought of Virgil. Everything Richie did somehow reminded him of the man he used to love. The man he still loved. Rhythmically, Richie began to hit his head with the heels of his palms, having dropped his pajama pants to the floor, and began muttering: "Stop loving him. Stop it! God damn it, it has been twenty years! Stop loving Virgil; there is no reason to still love that man! He broke my heart! I'm more logical than this!"

It didn't matter what Richie told himself, though, because no matter what, he was always going to love Virgil. He was always going to love someone he didn't trust, because Virgil was the only person that had ever really understood him; the only person that ever really cared. Except for running off and getting married after Richie gave him everything. Any normal person would have moved on years ago, would have given up trying to figure out what went wrong, and would have just forgotten, but not Richie. No, Richie spent any moment he wasn't working, or obeying his cat, mulling over the past. It was one of the annoying side effects of being a super-genius; Richie overthought absolutely everything. He even overthought love. Perhaps especially love, because love was the most illogical thing another person could feel.

Letting out a sigh filled with distress and anguish, Richie got up from bed one last time and meandered into the bathroom to down his prescribed dosage of Seroquel. It would only be a few minutes before the medicine kicked in, so he went back to bed rather hastily. There had been several times where Richie had fallen asleep standing up because the medicine took effect rather spontaneously. It really was that powerful on him, even if it only kept him asleep for eight hours. However, just to make sure he did wake up, Richie's bed vibrated violently at five in the morning. It was the most effective way Richie found to wake himself from his medicated slumber now that he lived alone.

The thought to cross Richie's mind, as he lazily covered his naked torso with his comforter, was one that he sort of felt bad for having, but at the same time really wished were true. Richie couldn't help but wonder, and hope, maybe, just maybe, Virgil's marriage to Angelica had gone similarly to Angel's marriage. If Richie was being honest, it probably would have been the best Christmas present he could get, to know that Virgil's marriage had fallen apart.

Christmas was on Friday; it was just five days away, and if Richie was being completely honest with himself, the last thing he was in the mood for, and felt, was holiday cheer. If anything at all, he felt like the Grinch, because he would have been okay skipping over Christmas this year. What point was there to a holiday meant for family and friends, if there were no family and friends to spend it with?

Much to his utmost delight, as he was completely worn out from the day, the thoughts that mercilessly filled Richie's brain gradually escaped him and he fell into a deep and restful slumber.

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><p><strong>AN**: I was reduced to printing this chapter out and destroying it with a red pen just to make sure it was good. I'm not even kidding, I literally DESTROYED this chapter with a red pen. I'm surprised it's not dripping blood. XD

For any of you who were thinking: "Whoa. Whoa, Aqono, whoa. That is A HUGE FUCKING DOSAGE of Seroquel. Jesus, you're going to kill him." Let me just say that, yes, yes it is a huge fucking dose. However, I talked to my boyfriend about it (he used to be on Seroquel) and he used to be on 1000mg. So, I asked him if 1500mg was out of the question and he said no, some people just need that much; especially people who literally cannot sleep. Much like Richie. I also read up on Seroquel and what it does on the website for it. So, don't freak out, I did my research before writing this chapter.

Now. Who loved the naked Richie scene at the end? XD I didn't want to make it too graphic (because this is rated T) but, come on, we all know he's naked with all his naked male parts. XD

Um... sorry this chapter isn't more, um, interesting? I wanted this chapter to be more about_ Richie _(i.e. who he's become, why he still loves Virgil and all that fun stuff). So I hope this chapter was at least a little bit interesting in that regard.

Anyway. AS ALWAYS, please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! I don't have anymore cookies, but, um... *looks around* I have candy bars? There's some leftover brownies from last chapter. XD


	7. Chapter VII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Just like every morning, Virgil's alarm clock blared at 6:35 in the morning. Almost robotically, Virgil automatically reached over and shut off the offending noise and sat up in his bed, his head leaning back against the headboard. He drew in a deep breath, causing his neck to stretch and his airway to constrict until he let out the breath slowly and evenly. Pulling his head back into an upright position, Virgil glanced around his darkened room, noting that everything was exactly as it had been the night before.<p>

Puffing out his cheeks, Virgil blinked a couple times to adjust his eyes before finally deciding to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there as he reached his arms behind his back, stretching his muscles and joints, which lead to a satisfied groan. He let out another puff of air, officially feeling much more awake and mostly ready for the day.

The day which was apparently going to start a lot sooner than Virgil had planned.

From down the hall, Virgil heard fast paced footsteps heading toward his bedroom door. He raised an eyebrow with his eyes fixated on the door and pulled his legs onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. He lazily covered himself with the blanket just as he saw his bedroom door open.

"Good morning, Daddy," Chloé said as she stuck her head through the cracked open door. "May I come in?"

"Sure, baby," Virgil said and leaned back against the headboard again. He made space next to him on the bed and Chloé sat down beside him. "What's up?" Virgil asked as he planted a kiss on top of Chloé's head.

"Can Rachael come and stay the night?"

Virgil blinked and absently glanced at the clock again. The time was now 6:42 in the morning. Virgil looked back at Chloé who was staring intently at Virgil as she awaited the answer to her question. Virgil's mind reeled through a couple of thoughts, but most specifically: Why was Chloé asking him at 6:40 in the morning?

"Chloé, honey, you do realize what time it is, right?" Virgil said in a way that had been meant to not hurt her feelings, but make her aware that it was too early to be asking him something like this. "Is Rachael even awake at this hour? Why are you awake?"

"I'm awake because Rachael called me to ask if she could stay the night," Chloé said as if that should have been obvious.

"Rachael called you at 6:30 in the morning, Chloé? Why?" Virgil questioned monotone. Then his eyes narrowed. He daughter didn't own a cell phone, so another question caught his interest. "Called you on what?"

"The phone, Daddy," Chloé said and held up Virgil's home phone. "I gave her your phone number at school so I could talk to her over winter break."

Virgil knitted his eyebrows together, scratched his forehead with his middle finger, and then squeezed his eyes shut gently. Not that he had anger issues, but he mentally counted backward from ten, anyway, so that he could clear his thoughts, because right now his daughter was in his bedroom at almost 7:00 in the morning asking for permission for something that could easily have waited at least two hours. On top of it all, Chloé had been giving out his phone number without his permission. Then there was the fact that all of this was going down before he had his morning cigarette. He needed to clear his mind.

A few moments of complete silence passed between them, throughout a majority of which Virgil watched the dance of emotions across Chloé's face. Finally letting out a sigh, Virgil sat up into an upright position and pulled Chloé into a hug which she returned with the same intensity that Virgil was giving.

"She can come over," Virgil said without letting go of his daughter. Gently, he pushed her away just far enough to see her face that had begun to fill with excitement from her father's approval. He smiled and brushed a kiss on her cheek before continuing to speak. "But, next time, can you wait until a more reasonable hour to come ask me? Seven in the morning is a little early for me to be making decisions about the rest of the day, Chloé."

The expression on Chloé's face fell slightly as she said "I'm sorry, Daddy," apologetically, and buried her face into Virgil's chest, wrapping Virgil in a monstrous hug. When Virgil returned the hug, Chloé cuddled up against him and said, "Thank you for letting her come over, though." She paused momentarily before adding: "Is it okay if we go get her? She doesn't know where you live, but I know where she lives."

Virgil sighed but nodded quickly. "Yes, we can go get her. You're sure you know where she lives?"

The absolute look of glee on Chloé's face was more than enough of a thank you for Virgil. Sometimes he even wondered if he told Chloé yes on things just because he wanted to see her happy. It was a possibility, considering Chloé was the only pretty much the only person in his life that actually made him happy.

"I'm clairvoyant, Daddy," Chloé reminded, breaking Virgil of his thoughts, as she ran out of the room to get dressed. "I know how to find people, remember, Daddy? Finding Rachael will be easy!" she laughed, but then said seriously, "But yes, I know where she lives," she called out just before she was out of his earshot.

"Wait!" Virgil called down the hallway, when a sudden question came to him. He got up and went to the doorway, catching Chloé right before she went into her room. She turned on her heels to face Virgil. "Are we supposed to be picking her up now?" When he didn't get an answer, he said, "Chloé, it is only seven. I was thinking maybe we could get her at, like, nine or ten."

Chloé's eyes darted to the floor and she said, "I told Rachael we would come get her at 7:45 if you said yes," in a cautious tone.

Without really thinking, Virgil groaned loudly, obviously displeased. He dropped his face into his palm and placed his other hand on his hip. "Chloé, it is seriously way too early to be driving to Gotham. Not to mention, I am not even dressed, my dreads are a tangled mess, and I would like a shower. Besides, it's Monday morning; there's going to be rush hour traffic. Just because I'm off work doesn't mean other people are, too."

Chloé's chin slumped to her chest as she began to pick at her fingernails. Every so often, she would roll her lips and then gently bite at her bottom lip. She occasionally shifted her balance from her right foot to her left, feeling genuinely uncomfortable by the situation at hand.

Virgil sighed softly and walked over to Chloé. Getting down on his knees, he pushed Chloé's head up with his pointer finger and thumb. "Chloé, I'm not mad at you. A little frustrated, but I'm not mad," Virgil said and drew in a deep breath that ended in a yawn. He pulled Chloé into a hug, to which she gratefully returned. Virgil couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips when his daughter hugged him back.

After several seconds of just hugging, Chloé finally spoke. "Do you think I should call Rachael and tell her we'll be there by eleven instead?" she offered.

Virgil gave an airy laugh that tickled Chloé's cheek and hugged her closer. Chloé responded by practically curling into Virgil's chest, taking in the sweet scent of his unique smell. She relaxed in her father's arms at the all-to-familiar scent that made her feel warm and protected, even when she knew she had done something wrong.

"Yes, Chloé, I think you should. I would really appreciate it."

Letting Chloé free from the hug, Virgil gently kissed Chloé's cheek and then watched as she ran down the hallway to her bedroom, calling after him with an "I love you." Virgil listened as he heard the mumbled sounds of his daughter's voice, and something that sounded like "My Daddy says 7:45 is too early. I should have asked first. Is like 11:00 okay?"

Virgil shook his head as he grinned, laughed airily. There was certainly no doubt that Chloé was his daughter, and certainly even less doubt that Virgil loved her, absolutely no matter what. It was moments like this that made Virgil think that maybe, just perhaps, whatever he had screwed up while in the future, had been worth it to have a daughter as beautiful and loving as Chloé. Even if it ultimately meant loosing his best friend.

Staring at Chloé's bedroom door, Virgil made a split-second decision that Chloé was probably going to be on the phone for a while, so Virgil went back into his room, grabbed his hoodie, and momentarily slipped outside to the balcony. His dreads and the shower could wait.

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><p><strong>AN**: I had intended on this chapter being a little bit longer, but decided at the last minute to just give you this fluffiness. There's a lot of angst to come (probably chapter 9 or 10) and since we just got past some angst, I want to give you guys a little bit of a breather before more comes. It's like a roller coaster of Angst up in here.

Um... I have nothing else to say about this chapter, or in general.

Except that this chapter took me forever to write, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out.

Anyway, please review! Constructive criticism is welcome!

Just thought I'd add something: Please ignore any errors (i.e. missing words) that may be in this chapter. I wrote it kind of late and forgot to proofread. Sorry about that. =/ I'm doing my best to go back and make changes as I see needing them.


	8. Chapter VIII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Three hours had passed since the morning's occurrences by the time Virgil was stepping out of the shower. Standing in front of the shower, he ran his hands through his dreads thrice in an attempt to shake out any excess water. When he was satisfied with the dryness of his hair, he turned toward the mirror to examine his reflection. Gently, he grabbed his face between his hands and ran them down his cheeks. His face was slender, with his chin coming to a rounded-off point. He looked, Virgil noted, like he had when he was a teenager. The only difference was he'd grown some facial hair similar to what he had seen his future self with. He looked like his future self, and in every way he was that Virgil, but at the same time he wasn't; he certainly wasn't as muscular, but that was too be expect, because he wasn't a hero. Plain and simple, Virgil did not see in that mirror what he had seen thirty years ago.<p>

Virgil drew in a deep breath and turned around to grab a towel that was hanging on the wall. He wrapped himself in it and returned to examine his reflection in the mirror. He had spent the better part of two decades trying to figure out what had went wrong; what had happened to make his life go so differently. Not that he really obsessed over it, but it was something he pondered. Sometimes because he wondered why he hadn't continued on as Static, and sometimes because he wondered why he hadn't stay friends with Richie. Of course Virgil knew the reason for not staying friends with Richie was his fault, but why had it so dramatically altered his future that he had married Angelica? Wasn't seeing his future supposed to me that it was going to happen?

Virgil blinked and leaned in closer to the mirror, having noticed that his dreads were starting to come apart. Letting out a generic sigh, Virgil bit at the corner of his upper lip while wrapping one of his dreads around his finger lazily. Standing straight up again, Virgil cleared his throat as one final thought about his future skirted through his mind. He thought perhaps, maybe, it was possible that because he had seen his future meant it wasn't going to happen. Perhaps, Virgil considered, his future was meant to have stayed a surprise. And if that were the case, Virgil wasn't sure if he regretted seeing his future or not, because he loved Chloé but he really missed Richie. Even worse, Virgil had given up years ago on ever getting Richie back, even if Chloé could find him; it was simply more complicated than that.

Virgil sighed again, shaking his head free of the thoughts; free of the memories. He had a daughter to worry about and a little girl in Gotham to pick up, meaning Virgil didn't really have time to mull over the past.

Leaving the bathroom, Virgil skirted quickly into his bedroom. When the door was securely shut, he let the towel drop to his feet and walked to his dresser. From the top drawer, he grabbed a pair of socks and boxers. From the second drawer he picked out a plaid dark gray, long-sleeved, button up flannel shirt, and then picked a red cotton tee-shirt to pair with the dark gray. From the bottom drawer, he withdrew a pair of black jeans. Once he had all his clothes, he sat down on the edge of his bed and got dressed.

Once he was completely dressed, Virgil went to his closet and grabbed a pair of black boots. He stepped into them, laced them, and walk out of his room, tossing the towel from earlier into a hamper on his way out.

"Chloé," Virgil said as he approached his daughter's door, "are you ready to go?"

"One second, Daddy," Chloé called out to him through the closed door.

Virgil cleared his throat as he leaned up against the wall, opposite of where the door swung. He crossed his arms and feet and waited for Chloé. "You're not going to be too long, are you, Chloé?"

"No, Daddy," Chloé replied distractedly. "I'll be out really soon. I'm just finishing a present I'm making."

Virgil raised an eyebrow with interest, a small smile forming across his lips. "Who's the present for?"

"It's a surprise," Chloé replied, her voice getting louder as she spoke. Virgil stood up straight when she appeared in the doorway. "I'm ready to go now, Daddy."

Virgil grinned down at Chloé. "Well, alright, then. Let's go," he said and the two of them headed outside to his car.

"Are you positive this is the house, Chloé?" Virgil asked as he pulled into a driveway that lead up to a two-story townhouse.

"I'm positive, Daddy."

"Alright, then, let's go get Rachael," Virgil said with a smile and unbuckled his seatbelt.

* * *

><p>Once he was out of the car, Virgil was already five feet behind Chloé, who was running down the driveway to the house. Virgil laughed at the sight of Chloé's excitement to see her friend. When he finally caught up with her, she was knocking on the door and had already ringed the doorbell twice.<p>

"I think that's good, Chloé," Virgil said with a chuckle, placing his hand on Chloé's fist. "I have a feeling Rachael probably heard you."

After two minutes of waiting, the door was finally answered. In the doorway stood a little girl with blonde hair that Virgil assumed was Rachael, and next to Rachael was a man a little taller than Virgil who had a hand place on Rachael's shoulder. He had fiery red hair that was cut short, a muscular build and a tanned completion. Virgil almost didn't recognize the man.

Almost.

Virgil went wide-eyed, inadvertently stumbling a few steps back, while the man standing in front of him had an expression of amusement. For several moments, Virgil was unable to do anything except stare, his heart practically beating out of his chest and his palms a little bit sweaty. It wasn't that Virgil couldn't fend for himself, or even that he was afraid, but seeing an old bully tended to make a person nervous. At some point Chloé and Rachael had gone off to the living room, because when he came too, they were no longer standing at the door.

Rachael's father was the first to speak, breaking the silence amongst them. "Well, well, if it ain't Hawkins."

Virgil cleared his throat. "Um…" he stammered, rocking on his heels. He said the only thing that came to mind. "Francis?"

"Last time I checked," Francis huffed. He narrowed his gaze on Virgil. "You can calm down, Hawkins; I ain't gonna hurt ya," he said but Virgil's standoffish, ready to run, body language didn't cease, so Francis softened his own expression. "I'm changed now. I've got a kid and a wife."

Virgil's eyebrows shot up with interest, unintentionally causing him to relax some. When he spoke, his tone flickered with the same degree of interest that his facial expression was displaying. Obviously Virgil knew Francis had a daughter, but he never expected him to get married. "Wow, really? You have a wife? Who is she?"

"Teresa," Francis said and gestured Virgil's attention to the woman standing in the living room, talking with Rachael and Chloé. Francis shifted and looked back to Virgil before he spoke. "Talon, I guess you would know her as, but she doesn't go by that anymore," he informed, but of course Virgil knew who Teresa was, and it sort of shocked him that Francis had gotten married to her. Francis never seemed like her type.

"Well, congratulations, Francis," Virgil offered with a warm smile and an affirmative nod. "How long have you been married?"

"Ten years." Francis paused, wracking his brain for something to say. He finally settled on: "Ya got a wife?"

"No," Virgil said bleakly, his eyes darting to the ground as he kitted his eyebrows. "Not anymore. I've been divorced for five years."

"I'm sorry," Francis said sympathetically. It even surprised Virgil how serious Francis sounded and he looked up at Francis again. "What 'bout Foley? How's he?" he asked casually.

"I don't know," Virgil replied quietly, avoiding eye contact with Francis once again. He had really been doing it for the whole of the conversation, finding this sudden meeting of an old foe rather awkward, but now he really did not want to make eye contact with Francis. "We're not friends anymore," he said and suddenly grimaced, the words almost tasting strange in his mouth. Virgil wasn't really used to telling people he wasn't friends with Richie anymore, even after twenty years; even if he had come to terms with it, it was still strange. Most of the people that knew them as friends, knew that they were completely inseparable; they were practically attached at the hip.

Not to mention, Virgil absolutely abhorred the looks of pity he got when he divulged that information.

The same look of pity he was getting from Francis, which made Virgil feel even more uncomfortable. The last person Virgil expected to take pity on his life situations was Francis. As a matter of a fact, the last person Virgil ever expected to run into again, save for Richie, was Francis.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Francis said, unfolding his arms and standing up a little straighter. "What happened?" he asked, and Virgil couldn't really tell if Francis genuinely cared or just wanted to seem like he did.

He decided on a vague answer for the sake of being polite, even if being polite with Francis was the last thing Virgil ever expect to be doing. "We just… we had… a falling out," he said, stuttering a little, and only remotely lying. There was no one, except for Richie, that knew one hundred percent about what happened that night. No one really needed to know. "We… um… we had a pretty big fight twenty years ago and we haven't spoken since."

"Sounds like you've had a pretty hard life. Sorry to hear that," Francis noted and patted Virgil's shoulder which earned Francis eye contact, and a look of shock, from Virgil. "Like I told ya, Hawkins, I've changed. People can do that, ya know."

Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned against the support beam on the front porch. "I know people can change, Francis. It's just strange to run into you is all. Last time I saw you, you were so—" Virgil cut himself off abruptly, realizing that Francis didn't know about him being Static, or that he had been at the second big bang, so he quickly changed what he was going to say. "The last time I saw you, you were a bully and a villain. So, it's strange."

Francis shrugged. "Well, I ain't anymore. Burnin' down shit gets old after a while. And I have a kid to feed, so I got a job."

"What do you do?" Virgil questioned.

"I'm a welder."

Virgil couldn't help the snort that he made. When he earned himself a glare from Francis, he said quickly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," and rose his hands up in defense, apologetically. "It's a suitable job for you."

Francis rolled his eyes and leaned back against the door again. "Well, what do you do, Hawkins?"

Virgil chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, as if he were debating how to answer the incredibly easy question. "I'm a lawyer," he finally said. Thinking about it, it was a pretty suitable job for him as well. Even if it wasn't using his powers on the job like Francis probably was.

Francis nodded a couple of times, slowly. "Nice," he said, simply.

An awkward silence fell amongst the two. Having not been friends in high school really did mean they didn't have much to talk about now. They had done the typical catching up spiel, and now they were out of things to converse about. So, when Chloé and Rachael returned to the door, Virgil had been delighted by the break of awkward silence. "Daddy, can we please go?"

Virgil glanced at Francis who merely shrugged. He looked back down at Chloé and said with a smile, "Yeah, we can go." He watched as Rachael and Chloé ran for his car and climbed into the backseat. He looked back to look at Francis who was standing by the doorknob. "When do you want her back?"

Francis paused and looked into the house for a minute. He seemed to nod at something and then looked back at Virgil. "I guess whenever you want to bring her back. Just sometime before Christmas." There was a pause as Francis fished through his pocket for a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. "Here," he said, handing Virgil the paper, "this is m' cell phone number. Call me before ya wanna bring her home."

Virgil accepted the piece of paper with a smile and a nod. As a last moment thought, he ripped off a corner of the paper and wrote down his own phone cell number phone number with a pen he had had in his pocket. "Here," Virgil offered. "In case you need to get ahold of me."

"Thanks, Hawkins," Francis said, accepting the paper. "Nice seeing you," he said and disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind him.

Virgil blinked, staring at the closed door for several moments. He sniffed once before turning around to head back to his car. The trip back to his car proved to be one of the longest trips to his vehicle he had seemingly ever taken. Francis certainly had changed; that much was obvious. It didn't change the fact that the meeting was awkward and made Virgil feel uncomfortable. More than twenty years had gone by since Virgil last saw Francis, and he had been trying to scorch him. Now, all of a sudden, Francis was domesticated. He was a civilized person who could hold civilized conversations and Virgil had felt uncomfortable about it the entire time. He was especially uncomfortable by the fact that Francis had asked about Richie, because Francis had remembered and had cared. That's what racked Virgil's mind the most: Francis had cared.

Murmuring incoherent nothingness, Virgil got into the driver's seat, and once everyone in the car was buckled and ready, he pulled out of the driveway and headed back toward Dakota while Rachael and Chloé pondered Virgil's question about what they wanted to do with the day.

When Chloé successfully talked Rachael into meeting her cousin, Chelsea, and they decided that was what they wanted to do with the day, Virgil turned the opposite direction of his apartment to Sharon's house. It had been awhile since Virgil had seen Sharon, so he figured it would be a nice way to spend the day. Not that he would ever admit that; even at forty-two, Virgil was as stubborn as a teenager.

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><p><strong>AN**: I have nothing to say.

Did you like my plot-twist with Francis? I thought it was amusing.

Also, who loved the naked Virgil part. I figured it was only fair to give you a naked Virgil "description," considering I have you a naked Richie one in chapter six.

Sorry if it seems like the last two chapters are plot-fillers, but I didn't want to give you guys a ton of angst. Like I said last chapter, there's a lot of it coming and I want to give you some cute and fluffy (and do a little bit more character development) before that.

Chapter 10 will be when more angst comes. I'm calling it.

Sorry I made Francis sound like... um... an uneducated hick? I don't know. That's just what he sounds like in my head, and how I've seen him portrayed in other stories. So I went with it, and that's what I got.

Anyway. Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! Cookies and hugs for everyone that does! (I accept anon reviews, by the way. I know I never mentioned that, but if you want to review anonymously, you can. =3)

Also, this is seriously my longest chapter at 2,940 words. (Including the Author's Note, Disclaimer and Summary.) XD I didn't expect it to be so long, but whatever. Enjoy my words. XD


	9. Chapter IX

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Richie drew in a deep breath and exhaled it with a groan. He spent several minutes dancing between sleep and consciousness before he found himself awake, lying on his back, and staring at the ceiling. He dropped his left hand on his face, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes, while his other hand felt around beside his chest for Aria. When he located her, he gently scratched her ear until he felt and heard her purring, at which point he began to pet her entire back.<p>

Turning his head to the side, Richie took note of his alarm clock blinking 1:35. Judging from the sun coming through his window, he figured that meant it was afternoon. He puffed out his cheeks and let out the breath as he wondered why his bed hadn't vibrated that morning. Or Richie had just turned it off and went back to sleep? The latter really made no sense to him because, once he was even remotely awake, he was awake until he took his medication again. He turned his head the opposite direction to see Aria staring at him.

"Did my bed vibrate, Ari?" Richie asked pointlessly. He snorted to himself, continuing to pet his cat. "Like asking you would do me any good, anyway," he muttered and sat up, pulling Aria into his lap. She made a couple circles before finding a comfortable position to lie down in. Richie continued to stroke her back. He decided he would look into what was wrong with his bed later that day. At the moment, though, he just wanted to enjoy the fact that he actually felt good; that nothing was bothering. For the first time in a long while, he was in a good mood, and he was going to take advantage of it.

"What should I do today, Ari?" Richie asked as he moved his hand to stroke Aria's ear with his middle finger. Even though Aria was completely deaf, Richie still talked to her as if she weren't because she was the only other living thing in the house. Not that she would be able to answer Richie even if she could hear, but it made him feel like ridiculous to talk to her than to himself. "I was thinking that I could go for a walk later. It's been awhile since I've done that.

"How about we get you something to eat?" Richie suggested as he slipped out from under the covers. When he felt a sudden, rather surprising, draft against his lower body, he glanced down and went a little red across his nose. He turned to face Aria—who was stretching and not paying attention to Richie—and laughed. "But maybe I should get dressed first." He had forgotten he had fallen asleep without pajama pants.

Richie shuffled over to his dresser and opened the top drawer for a pair of socks, a pair of boxers, and white cotton, form-fitting tank top. With the garments in hand, he sat down on the edge of his bed and got dressed from foot to torso. He then got up again and walked over to his closet where he chose a two-colored, long-sleeved, cotton top. It was made to look like it was a black long-sleeved shirt under a blue short-sleeved one. There was even extra where the black met the blue for the added effect. To match, he chose a pair of slim, black jeans and a pair of black boots that went halfway up his calves, which he shoved the bottoms of his pants into. He finished off the outfit a black zip-up, hooded sweater (which he zipped about halfway) and his rimless, gold-stemmed glasses.

The last thing Richie did before leaving his bedroom was take care of his hygiene. With Aria held securely under his arm, he headed downstairs to the kitchen where he sat Aria down on the kitchen table. Even if she was deaf, Aria knew what it meant when she was sitting on the kitchen table, so she sat patiently, and watched intently as Richie looked through the cabinet above the microwave for a bowl to put her food in. In twenty years, Richie had never gotten around to buying her a food bowl; he never saw a reason for one, considering he had plenty of bowls that worked just as well.

Finally finding one he didn't mind having a cat eat from, he placed it on the table and walked over to the refrigerator where he withdrew the bag of salmon and chicken. He poured the remainder of the bag's contents into the bowl and watched for a moment as Aria began eating it. Clearing his throat, he turned around and tossed the bag into the trash can. He then sat down in the seat facing Aria and continued to contently watch her eat.

Richie may not have been leading a very exciting life for a super-genius, but at least it was a rather rewarding one. He had a job that more or less challenged his intelligence (less rather than more) and he had a cat that he loved like a daughter. All of that combined with the things he had invented, in his spare time, to make his condo, and ultimately his life, more interesting and manageable—the vibrating bed for instance—and he was living a pretty good life, even given the days he was a super-emotional wreck over Virgil.

Richie glanced at the clock on the microwave. He noted that it was 3:00 in the afternoon and he had yet to eat. Somehow he never really took the time to eat until it was later in the day, be it because he was working or because he was sleeping. Deciding he didn't want to cook, Richie got up to rummage through the refrigerator for something quick. It took him close to ten minutes to finally decide on a turkey sandwich, having realized it was the only thing he could put together that didn't require any cooking whatsoever. He grabbed tomato, lettuce, Swiss cheese, and mustard to go along with the sandwich he put on rye bread. He also got some pretzels and soda to go with it. It was, overall, a pretty appetizing meal.

An hour later, after Richie had cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes he and Aria had been using, he decided that it was now or never that he took that walk. After putting his cat on the floor, Richie made his way to his coat closet and grabbed a black trench coat that went to his hips and an electric blue scarf that Mike had told him matched his eyes. It really wasn't too cold out, but sense Richie would be walking, he decided it was appropriate to wear something that would block the chill.

Once he was bundled up, Richie grabbed his house key and made his way outside. He locked the door and put the key in the pocket of his coat and made his way down the driveway to the sidewalk. He breathed in the fresh air and let out the breath with a content sigh as he began his stride down the street.

_Today is a good day_, Richie thought to himself, smiling.

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><p><strong>AN**: There's really not much I want to say about this chapter, except that it's basically spewing "I AM A FILLER CHAPTER" all over the place. Well, not really, I guess... Actually, it's more or less a lead-up chapter. It'll just make chapter ten make a little bit more sense.

I just wanted to say that that's the reason I went from Chloé, Rachael, and Virgil going to Sharon's house to this... Because I needed to build up to the scene in chapter ten. So... um... yeah. That's why.

Also. I was literally drooling as I described what Richie was wearing. I forgot to mention that he has a black hoop earring (similar to the one he wore in the show) but I think for most of you, that goes without saying.

Anyway. Please review/favorite/alert/whatever! It all means a lot! I really do appreciate the dedication of all my readers! Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Chapter X

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Chloé, Chelsea, and Rachael were sitting on the front porch of the unseasonably warm Monday evening—it was around six—playing with the huge box Barbie's Chelsea owned. Virgil, Sharon, and Adam had told the children they wanted some time for themselves to have adult conversations. In other words, they wanted to talk about boring stuff that the girls wouldn't have found interesting, anyway. And since it wasn't too cold outside, the girls figured they could enjoy playing just by wearing long-sleeved shirts and thick sweaters.<p>

Currently, each of the girls were picking out dolls from the box and setting up careers for their dolls to work in.

"Chelsea," Rachael said as she looked through the box, "do you have a boy doll with red hair?"

Chelsea glanced in the box briefly, but she didn't really need to look to know she didn't have one. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Rachael; I don't have one like that." She paused momentarily and looked through the box again, moving a bunch of dolls to either side until she found a Ken doll with bleach blond hair. She handed the doll to Rachael and said, "You can use a marker and color this doll's hair red, if you want," she offered.

"It's okay," Rachael said, accepting the doll with a smile. "I'll just pretend he has red hair. Besides, my Daddy's hair has some blond, too."

"His hair is blond and red?" Chelsea echoed with a raised eyebrow. She was having trouble imagining that combination of colors being someone's hair and actually looking good, and she had a lot of hair combinations at school. "Does it look good?"

"I don't know," Rachael said with a shrug, and furrowed her eyebrows only briefly. She grinned as she said, "He's my Daddy; how am I supposed to know if it looks good?"

Chloé and Chelsea laughed at Rachael's comment. Chloé nudged Rachael with her elbow and when she fell over, the three of them burst into side-splitting laughter that caused them all to end up on their backs. They laughed for the better part of ten minutes.

A sudden sensation jolted Chloé into alertness causing her to sit up and blink slowly, setting down the Ken doll she had been pretending was a lawyer like her father and the Barbie she had been pretending worked in a café, like her mother. Carefully, she began to looking around the area amongst her, as if she were carefully looking for something. Standing just as slowly as she blinked, Chloé finally made her way down the steps to the sidewalk below and continued to look intently through the area around here. She had her eyes closed before Rachael or Chelsea thought to ask her what she was doing.

"I don't know who it is," Chloé said as she turned briefly to look at her friend and cousin, "but I sense someone…"

Rachael raised an eyebrow as she looked up and down the street momentarily. "There's no one around here, though, Chloé."

Chloé sighed and examined the area a little more intently. Rachael was right; there was no one there. The street was as abandoned as a desert. With a shrug, Chloé made her way back up the steps, but stopped mid-step when the feeling hit her again; there was definitely someone there, someone that Chloé was meant to know about it. The tingling feelings were too strong to just ignore it, so she casually turned around and went back down the steps; hawkeyed of the streets as she waited intently for the person she knew was there to show his or herself.

"Chloé," Chelsea broke in, scooting from the porch to the first step so she could look up and down the street more clearly. "Rachael is right; there really is no one there."

"No, there is someone here," Chloé protested positively. She turned back toward the porch to make eye contact with Chelsea. "I can sense it," she said and turned away again, intent on figuring out who it was she was sensing and why she was sensing the person at all.

"Well, do you know who it is?" Rachael asked curiously.

Chloé shrugged. She spoke without turning back this time. The sense that someone was there was getting stronger and she refused to miss a second of what was going on in the streets. "I don't know who it is, but it's obviously someone I know or I've seen before," Chloé pointed out, "or I wouldn't be doing this right now. It's got to be someone really important. I've never had this type of sense bef—"

Chloé cut herself off as she noticed a figure in the distances growing bigger as it walked toward her. "I see someone." She became noticeably more alert and even regressed to the porch, in case the figure wanted to hurt her somehow. Chloé, Chelsea and Rachael were ready to run inside if they needed to.

"Who is it?" Rachael asked as she stood beside Chloé who was shortly after joined by Chelsea. "Is it someone bad?"

"I don't know," Chloé replied plainly.

Chloé watched intently as the figure grew bigger and bigger, becoming clearer and clearer. It didn't take long, though, before Chloé realized she knew who it was.

With a yip of excitement, Chloé flew from the porch and ran up to the man who was now only several inches from her. When she earned a look of confusion, Chloé spoke. "Hi, my name is Chloé," she began. She mentally stammered for a minute as she debated what to say next. "Is your name Richie?" she finally asked, maintaining eye contact.

Startled, Richie took several steps away from the girl that had cut him off. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, he gave Chloé a confused look and said, "Um… Yes. My name is Richie. Who are you?" he asked rather stupidly, as the little girl had just told him her name. He decided to pose another question before Chloé had a chance to respond. "I mean, why do you want to know? How do you know who I am?" he asked warily, eyeing Chloé.

Practically jumping up and down, Chloé said, "I'll show you. Come with me." She took Richie's hand and led him up the stairs to the porch and through the front door of Sharon's home.

If Richie had been in his right mind, he would have questioned the motives of the little girl leading him into a stranger's house, but he was so confused that the questions never came to mind. It had to be one of the few times Richie was actually reduced to incoherent thoughts and being dumbfounded without use of his sleeping pills.

Curiously wanting to find out what was going on, Chelsea and Rachael followed not too far behind the strange blond man, making sure to keep their distance. Chloé guided the group to the dining room where they found Virgil, Sharon and Adam sitting around the table, talking.

"Daddy, look who I found for you," Chloé said excitedly as she stepped into the room. The suddenness of his daughter's voice caused Virgil to painfully jerk his head toward her.

He would have grimaced at the pain jerking his neck caused, but Virgil's eyes immediately went wide and his mouth agape at the sight of the man standing beside his daughter; the sight of the man who had squawked out his name once he turned around, and he forgot why his neck hurt in the first place. The sound of the glass Virgil had been holding hitting the ground and shattering echoed throughout the room, but neither Richie nor Virgil blinked. Instead, Virgil stared, his heart in his throat and stomach all the same time. Virgil didn't move, save for his eyes which were rapidly looking over Richie; he was too stricken with a paralyzing amount of emotions to move any other part of his body. It was Richie. The man he had not seen for two decades. His best friend was now standing in Sharon's dining room and Virgil was staring at him; he was tangible, he was real. He was alive.

However, it didn't take Virgil long to realize Richie was obviously still pissed, still absolutely livid, at him, which suddenly made him aware of where his heart had fallen. The way Richie's blue eyes had fallen as black as his close with venom made Virgil gulp and he suddenly felt aware of every inch of his body. Virgil felt hot tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, unsure if the tears were happiness in knowing Richie was alive, or anguish from knowing that just by seeing Virgil for a mere seven seconds was enough to cause looks of venomous hatred in his eyes. Unfortunately, the tears were probably an extremely maddening combination of both reasons.

When Sharon noticed the venomous looks Richie was displaying, she promptly ushered Adam and the kids upstairs, deciding that if things got violent, she did not want the kids to see it. She especially did not want Chloé to see it if her father got violent, or if someone got that way with him. All the way up the stairs, Sharon assured a worried Chloé everything was going to be alright and that she had done nothing wrong.

During the all-to-short period they were both stricken paralyzed, staring at one another (although Richie was scowling more so than staring), Virgil watched Richie's emotions dance between irrefutable aberration, and melancholy heartbreak, similar to the night in their in their headquarters; the night that was currently reeling through Virgil's memory. Just as Virgil was preparing himself to say something, Richie found his ability to move and darted from the house.

Just as Richie began running, Virgil also found the ability to move his legs and ran after him. "Richie, please wait! Come back!" he choked out, unable to push back the tears; but it was too late, because Richie was already down the street, and Virgil had collapsed into a heap of tears on the porch, no longer able to move. He wanted to keep running; wanted to catch up with Richie, but instead watched him dart down the street, quickly greatening the distances between them.

Virgil slinked into the corner of the porch, pulled his legs to his chest, buried his face in his knees, and shamelessly began to cry. He began to cry more than he had in twenty years, perhaps more than he had in his life. He cried because he finally got to see his best friend again, but his best friend certainly did not want to see him. It was obvious that Richie had been banking on never seeing Virgil again, judging by the way he bolted it out the house. It killed Virgil to know that he had fucked up that badly. Virgil cried because instead of just assuming he had completely screwed up his only worthwhile friendship, he now knew for a fact that he did. That realization only caused him to sob more violently and, for a moment, Virgil swore he could hear the sound of his own sobs echoing back to him, mocking him; making fun of him.

Mostly, though, he cried for the love he felt for Richie. He cried because it took him twenty years to realize; just how badly he had hurt Richie, and what he had lost by marrying Angelica. He always knew that he had lost a friend, a best friend, but now he realized he lost the only person he'd ever truly loved in a passionate way. He cried because it was perfectly clear he was never going to get a chance to prove that love; the love he should have realized he felt twenty years ago instead of trying to suppress. It took knowing how much he hurt Richie for Virgil to finally come to terms with something he had been trying to ignore for two decades; something he had been trying to believe was untrue.

With violently shaking hands, Virgil reached into the pouch of his hoodie for a cigarette and his lighter (he had forgotten to leave them at home earlier that morning, but now was glad he had it), and he cried as he smoked because, for the first time in five years, nicotine wasn't helping. The drug he went to whenever he was miserable was not bringing him relief from this pain. A little harsher than necessary, Virgil put out the cigarette on the concrete next to him—he figured that if it didn't help, there was no point in smoking it—and continued to cry. It was the only thing he was capable of doing. It was the only thing he wanted to do.

As far as Virgil was concerned, it was the only thing he should be allowed to do because, all of a sudden, he fully understood the emotional pain that he had put Richie through; the pain that Richie still went through, judging by the expressions on his face that haunted Virgil's disheveled thoughts.

Letting out a distressed groan through the tears, Virgil wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled, what should have been painfully, at his dreads, but it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt; Virgil was completely numb after fifteen consecutive minutes of crying. He reached into his sweater for another cigarette. Of course, this cigarette didn't help either, but it was better than literally pulling clumps of hair from his scalp.

It wasn't until about an hour later Virgil ceased crying, save for the occasional tears that dripped down his cheeks. He had gone completely numb; he had cried all the tears he could. He was so emotionally numb that, by the time Sharon stepped outside, Virgil was on his third cigarette. Sharon stood and watched her little brother smoke, watched the tears occasionally streaming down his face, and felt tears threaten her own eyes. Her heart broke at the sight of Virgil's colorless and expression less face, and she knelt down and pulled her brother into a shaky hug. When Virgil didn't respond and continued to smoke, Sharon felt the tears previously tugging at the corner of her eyes begin falling down her cheeks. In a gentle voice, she soothed, "I promise it will be okay, Virgil."

* * *

><p>Apprehensively, the girls hung out in Chelsea's bedroom as they wait for any sign that they could finally come downstairs. It had been a little over an hour since Sharon had escorted the girls upstairs, and they were becoming restless. Besides hearing Virgil yell at Richie to stop and wait, and then the front door closing loudly, they had no idea what was going on. Sharon and Adam had stayed in Chelsea's room with them until they heard the front door slam. At that point, Sharon went downstairs to look out the window peering to the front porch, watching Virgil cry in the corner of the porch, and Adam went to the kitchen as per Sharon's request to find the ingredients to make pizza for dinner.<p>

When the front door finally opened again, Chloé whined loudly when she heard the soft, pained mewls of her father. "This is my fault." She leaned against the wall in Chelsea's bedroom. Tears were stinging Chloé eyes, and she slid down the wall, burying her face into her knees. "My Daddy is crying and it's my fault," she hiccupped.

With a frown, Chelsea walked over to Chloé and knelt down in front of her. She hugged her cousin tightly as she said quietly, "It's not your fault, Chloé."

"Yes it is!" Chloé cried as she struggled free from Chelsea's hold on her. "Don't you understand, Chelsea? If I hadn't brought Richie here, my Daddy wouldn't be sad." She buried her face back into her knees and said through tears that were beginning to flow: "So, it's my fault.

"He told me he wasn't ready to see Richie, and I brought him inside, anyway. I didn't know that was going to happen. My Daddy probably hates me."

"Uncle Virgil doesn't hate you, Chloé. You're his daughter; he loves you," Chelsea reminded her as she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Chloé. She drew in a deep breath and said, "I'm sure he'll be okay, Chloé. Just give him some time."

"He even said he was worried that Richie didn't like him anymore," Chloé said quietly making Rachael and Chelsea almost strain in order to hear her. "I should have just ignored my sense, but I didn't, and now my Daddy is sad."

"Chloé," Rachael said gently from Chelsea's bed, "you did what you thought was right." She paused momentarily to move from the bed to a cross-legged position next to Chelsea. "No matter what your Daddy said, you couldn't have possibly known how Richie would react. You're clairvoyant, not a mind reader, Chloé."

Chloé drew in a deep breath and sighed with a groan. There was a long silence among the girls in which Chloé spent the majority with her face against her knees. Chelsea and Rachael looked at one another intermittently but never said anything. Eventually, they lied back and decided it was easier to succumb to the silence than find it awkward. It wasn't until Sharon appeared in their doorway that anyone spoke.

"Rachael," Sharon said, "would you be okay staying here overnight? You and Chloé can sleep in here with Chelsea."

Rachael sat up off the floor, and looked up at Sharon as she spoke. "Of course I wouldn't mind stay the night, Mrs. Evans. I was going to stay the night at Chloé's apartment, anyway, but I can stay here, too," she said politely.

Sharon smiled. "Alright then, good," she said and nodded briefly, "I'll find some extra blankets for the three of you later, and I'll be making dinner shortly."

Sharon was about to leave when she was halted by the faint sound of Chloé's voice. When she turned back around, she saw her niece standing in the doorway with a look almost as painful as the one her brother had had when she went outside.

"Is my Daddy going to be okay, Aunt Sharon?" she asked, looking toward the ground. "I never meant to make him sad. I just thought…" she trailed off, not really knowing what else to say.

A sympathetic smile crossed Sharon's features as she walked closer to Chloé and knelt down in front of her. She drew the little girl into a tight hug, which Chloé clung to, and said, "Virgil will be okay, honey. He just needs some sleep. He'll be fine in the morning." Sharon kissed the top of Chloé's head before standing up. "This isn't your fault, Chloé. I think maybe he needed this."

Chloé knitted her eyebrows in confusion and her gaze narrowed. "My Daddy needed to be sad? Why?"

Sharon let out an airy laugh. "No, honey, your Daddy needed to see Richie again," she said. "I'm not sure why they quit being friends, but I do know that whatever happened, your Daddy needed to see Richie in order to come to terms with it." Sharon paused momentarily. "You did a good thing for your Daddy, Chloé; trust me, you'll see."

Chloé nodded reluctantly and forced herself to smile. "Okay, Aunt Sharon," she said gave Sharon another hug. They hugged for a couple moments before Sharon patted Chloé's back and broke the hug. Chloé took a few steps and let her aunt go.

Sharon was about to go back downstairs when Chloé realized she had another question. "Aunt Sharon?"

"Yes, Chloé?" Sharon questioned, turning around on the steps.

"Is my mom still coming here for Christmas Eve?"

Angelica was invited to Sharon's house every year for Christmas Eve, because Angelica wanted to see her daughter for part of the holiday—the agreement was that Virgil got her for Christmas, so Virgil, and Sharon reluctantly so for the sake of her niece, agreed that Angelica could see Chloé on Christmas Eve by coming to Sharon's house for the family get-together.

Sharon tried to keep her eyes from going icy at the mention of Angelica. When her attempt failed, she turned away from Chloé and said, "Probably," as evenly as she could, as she continued her decent down the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Can I just say... there were at least five different occasions in which I burst into tears while writing this chapter. Virgil not being a very emotional person sort means that, when you do make him emotional, it tugs at your heartstrings. listened to a ton of sad songs and thought of a lot of sad things in order to get the emotions correct, so I really hope it turned out well.

I just want to give you fair warning that there will be a lot more angst before there's fluff, but there will be fluff. Just hold tight. I promise you it will come.

Sorry this chapter is so long. The actual story is like 3,395 words or something like that. With all the other shit, it's 3,876 words in all. I just felt it appropriate to make the most angst-filled chapter of the story the longest one as well.

Also, in case you were even the slightest bit curious, I got tired of trying to come up with cute names for the chapters, so I just went through and changed it all to Roman Numerals. That's clever, right? XD It's better than the Hindu-Arabic numeral system in that it's slightly more original (even though I'm pretty sure that people on this site have done it before and I am so far from original at all). Whatever; I just didn't want to come up with cute names anymore.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review! I have hot chocolate, cookies, tissues, and hugs for everyone that reviews!


	11. Chapter XI

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"Virgil saw Richie again, Daddy." Even at forty-seven, Sharon was still calling her seventy-five-year-old father 'Daddy.'<p>

There was a long silence in which Sharon assumed Robert was trying to process what his daughter had just told him, and how she had just told him. Her voice was solemn and hushed, as if she were trying not to be heard. Robert didn't need to be standing in front of her to know her expression was pained; she was filled with anxiety and concern. He need not see her face because he could hear it in her voice. Years of working at the Dakota Community Center with the troubled taught him everything he needed to know about reading emotions, both expression and verbal.

"I'm really worried about him," admitted Sharon, speaking to break the silence. Her voice quivered slightly. "He's been lying face down on the couch since seven o'clock last night. I'm honestly not sure he's moved." She shifted the phone to her other ear and faced away from the living room.

"Can you tell me what happened last night?" Robert asked, his voice remaining even. "So I can decide what to do," he added, justifying his question.

Sharon drew in a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh. She thought back to the night before; thought about Richie standing in her dining room with a look so cold the temperature of the room dropped. She remembered hearing the door slam from upstairs and then she remembered her brother; the way he was despondently sitting on the porch smoking. Finally, she explained the events of the previous night in as much detail as she could give; she explained absolutely everything she had seen, everything she could remember. She ended her explanation by saying, "I don't know what to do," as her voice cracked.

"I'll be there tomorrow night, probably around eight. Keep me updated if anything changes, good or bad. I'll talk to him; I'll see what I can get him to tell me." Another long silence fell between them. Sharon shifted the phone back to her original ear and faced the living room once again. She noted with a half-smile Virgil had still not moved. "Oh, and Sharon," said Robert, breaking Sharon's concentration on her brother, "don't let him leave. Chloé is there, too, right?"

"Yes," Sharon said simply. "Her friend Rachael is here, too," she added. "Virgil picked her up from Gotham yesterday so she could stay the night at his apartment. I told Rachael and Chloé they could stay the night here with Chelsea so I could keep an eye on Virgil. I didn't want him going home in that state and…" She trailed off, her voice getting softer as it began to falter. She took a moment to muster up the ability to say, "I'll keep him here."

"Sharon, it will be okay," Robert assured. "What about this Rachael, does she need to be home at a certain time?"

Sharon cleared her throat before responding. "I don't know," she said; "I tried asking Virgil and he mumbled something about his coat pocket."

"Well, look through his coat pocket; see what's in there," Robert urged. He paused for a moment before adding, "He wouldn't have mentioned his coat if it weren't okay for you to look through it."

"Alright, Daddy," Sharon said and let out a relieved breath she hadn't known she was holding. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"I'll see you tomorrow. I love you, Sharon."

"Love you, too, Daddy," Sharon replied warmly and hung up the phone.

Clearing her throat, Sharon meandered back into the living where she took a seat on the edge of the coffee. She outstretched her arm and began to form soothing circles on Virgil's back. She noted his breathing was slow and steady and deduced he was asleep. At seven in the morning, everyone in the house but Sharon was asleep. Sharon had spent most of the night tossing and turning, intermittently getting up to make sure Virgil was still alright. When daybreak hit, she decided she had had enough and gone to the kitchen to make coffee. It had been a last minute thought to call her father and inform him of the situation.

Retracting her hand, Sharon got up from the coffee table and walked over to Virgil's coat on the coatrack. She began to fish through each of the pockets, but only found a blue, black and yellow Bic lighter and a black leather wallet Virgil had scrawled Static's logo on. (Judging by how frayed the leather was, Sharon figured he had had for a while.) However, there was nothing in any of his pockets that answered her question about Rachael.

Sighing, Sharon was about to walk back into the living room when she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. Raising an eyebrow, she knelt down to pick it up. "What's this?" she muttered as she unfolded the paper, which read:

_Francis Stone, 212-555-3473_

She glanced at Virgil as she stuffed the refolded paper in her robe pocket. Turning on her heels, she made her way back to the living room where she took a seat on the edge of the coffee table once again. As before, she traced small circles on Virgil's back in hopes she was doing something to comfort him.

* * *

><p>Tear-stained pillows and piled tissues surrounded Richie as he lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a weight on his chest and he was unsure if it was due to the pain or Aria laying on him, not that he cared; he was too preoccupied mentally replaying scenarios to care about the condition of his chest.<p>

Richie yawned and squeezed his eyes closed. He was tired; physically, emotionally, and mentally. He had managed his way home at about nine o'clock the previous night and had been lying in his bed ever since. He hadn't even bothered to take his sleeping pills because part of him didn't want to sleep. He wanted to lie awake and overanalyze the events of the previous night.

And overanalyze he did.

Not even during battles as a teenager had Richie run so fast, and never in his life had he run so fast from something he wanted so desperately to run toward; something he wanted so desperately to have, but at the same time wanted so passionately out of his life, and Richie was beginning to wonder just how badly he actually wanted Virgil out of his life. Here was his chance to have Virgil back, even if he logically knew it would never work. He emotionally knew that too, but it still didn't stop the love he felt; the love that was completely dominating any logical thought Richie could possibly have on the matter.

Of all the days for Richie to run into Virgil, it just had to be on the day he was genuinely happy. It had to be on the day where nothing was bothering Richie and the last thing he was thinking about was the man he had run into. For twenty years, Richie had done his best to forget Virgil; to push the memories aside and move on with his life. For sixteen of those twenty years, he had done a pretty good job, but then recent events shoved him back into a spiral of emotions for his first love, and he was back in the spiral of logically knowing Virgil wasn't good for him, but emotionally not caring because he was always going to love Virgil.

Richie groaned and grabbed his head, almost convinced, if he didn't, his head was going to explode. His thoughts were just so jumbled and any attempt he made to sort them seemed futile. Obviously lying in bed and feeling on the edge of spontaneous combustion wasn't working, which made Richie realize he needed someone to talk to; he needed someone to spill his guts to and get feedback from. Unfortunately, though, Richie didn't have anyone like that in his life. The closest thing he had to a friend was Aria, but there was nothing psychologically satisfying about spilling your guts to a deaf cat.

Ignoring everything his brain was frantically processing, Richie moved Aria to his side, found his shoes and keys, and make his way out to his car. He was still wearing the same outfit from the previous night, but the energy to change just wasn't there.

Once the engine turned over, he turned on the radio to the first music station he found and cranked up the sound, hoping he could drown out his thoughts. It worked just well enough Richie could ignore the occasional thoughts that got past the loud R&B.

He drove, having no idea where he was going, but knowing he needed to go somewhere. He needed to find someone who would listen; he needed to clear his head. Most importantly, he needed to know what to do. Richie was tired of living his life in a constant battle with himself; a battle between logically knowing people cannot and do not change and knowing emotionally he was never going to love someone as much as he loved Virgil.

Seeing Virgil the previous night made Richie realize he had to work this out; he could not live his life in this spiraling mess any longer. He was putting an end to this roller-coaster ride, and he was putting an end to it today.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I think this chapter turned out alright. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this chapter, but it does move the plot along, so I can't complain. I'm finally bringing everything together!

If the part with Richie seems a little bit jumbled and confuse, then I did my job. I was trying to mimic his thought processes as being jumbled and out of control. I know it seems like I stress a lot how much Richie _still loves Virgil _but that's because he does and he's a super-genius so, like I said, he's in a battle of logic vs. emotion with himself.

I always just sort of figured because Richie was super-intelligent, then he would have emotions to match. So that's what I'm trying to display here. Hope it's working in my favor and not coming off as annoying.

High-fives and brownies to anyone who can figure out why the "3473" in Francis' phone number is clever. XD

Please leave a review! Tell me what you think about this story, good or bad! Show me some love, guys!

As always, if there's a couple grammatical errors/missing words in this chapter, I will go through and fix them as I find them. I did as much proofreading as I could but, alas, there is stuff I miss sometimes. If you find anything especially irking, feel free to tell in a private message.


	12. Chapter XII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"Chloé, what are you doing? Get down from there."<p>

Chloé turned her head as she knelt on the counter. The corner cabinet was open and everything in it had been pushed to the sides. "I want to make cookies for Daddy, though."

Sharon sighed and walked over to her niece. Wrapping her arms around Chloé's waste, she hoisted her up and then set her down on the floor in front of her. "Honey, I don't have everything to make cookies," said Sharon as she closed the cabinet door. "Besides, I don't think your Daddy is hungry right now."

"Why is he not hungry? He hasn't eaten since breakfast yesterday, Aunt Sharon."

"Honey, your Daddy is upset," said Sharon. When she saw a look of devastation cross Chloé's features, she quickly added, "He'll be okay soon enough, Chloé. He just needs some time to think some stuff through, I think," she assured.

"I thought you said that it was good for Daddy to see Richie. If it was good for him, then why is he still sad?" Chloé asked, confusion wrinkling her forehead and nose.

"I don't know, Chloé. I'm sorry. I wish I knew what was going on inside his head, but I have no idea," said Sharon as she knelt down in front of Chloé to give her a hug which Chloé returned with just as much force. "How about you go upstairs and play with Chelsea and Rachael? I need to talk to you uncle, okay?"

Reluctantly, Chloé nodded. She would have much preferred to stay downstairs with her father, but she knew better than to argue with adults. Nodding again, Chloé shuffled through the living room to the couch where Virgil was still lying with his face in the cushion. Only twice had he gotten up since the previous night, and both times were to use the bathroom. Shakily, Chloé leaned in and placed a kiss on Virgil's cheek, to which he responded by wrapping his left arm around Chloé's waist and pulling her close. He rubbed a circle on her back before retracting his arm under his chest once again. Content, Chloé ran upstairs to join Rachael and Chelsea in their game of Barbie's.

Sharon turned away from the living room, where she had been watching Chloé's actions, in order to face Adam who had walked into the kitchen behind her. "Did you see that?" she questioned.

"See what?" Adam asked, leaning against the kitchen table with a sandwich.

"Virgil," said Sharon and she gestured her head toward the living room, "and the way he responded to the kiss Chloé just gave him."

"I didn't see," Adam replied and took another bite of his sandwich. When he swallowed, he followed up with another question. "What happened?"

"Virgil hugged her."

"So? She's his daughter; he's allowed to hug her if he wants."

Sharon shrugged and crossed her arms. She leaned against the doorframe and said, "That's the most response I've seen him give since last night. He's been lying like that for almost twenty-four hours. I've tried without success to get him to talk to me."

Adam raised an eyebrow as he watched his wife become flustered. Setting down his sandwich on the table, he approached Sharon and wrapped his arms around her and laid her head on his chest. He waited until Sharon responded by wrapping her arms around his slender body and relaxing.

"I just wish he would talk to me, Adam," said Sharon in a small voice. "I'm worried about him."

Adam sighed softly and peered into the living room. Virgil had still not moved. Gently, Adam pushed Sharon far enough away that he could lift her chin with his thumb and pointer finger. He smiled and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "You're a wonderful person, Sharon," he began, "and I'm sure he'll talk to you when he's ready. Whatever happened last night; whatever emotions were triggered was obviously traumatic for him. He probably just needs time to work it out."

A warm gleam of a smile traced Sharon's lips. She leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips as she said, "I suppose you're right. I guess the only thing we can do is be here for him."

Adam nodded and smiled but didn't give a verbal response. Instead, he let Sharon go and went back to his original spot against the table and resumed eating his sandwich. "Besides," said Adam between bites, "your dad is coming tomorrow right? Does he know what's going on? Have you told him?" Not that he needed to ask, because if it pertained to family, Sharon was the first person to call Robert about it.

Sharon nodded and glanced into the living room. It was becoming something of a nervous habit at this point, checking on Virgil. "I called him this morning before you got up. He said to make sure Virgil stays here and he would talk to him tomorrow."

Adam nodded. "Well, I'm sure he'll be able to get through to him," he said and moved to put his plate in the sink.

Sharon shrugged. "I suppose.

"I found the phone for Rachael's dad in Virgil's coat pocket," she said and held up the folded piece of paper she had put in her jeans pocket after changing. "I was thinking of calling him so he could come get Rachael."

"That's probably a good idea," said Adam as he kissed Sharon's forehead and meandered into the living room and sat down on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" questioned Sharon, her eyes narrowed, and her fist holding the paper resting on her hip.

Adam shrugged and glanced into the kitchen. "I thought I'd talk to my bro," he said and turned his attention back to Virgil.

Sharon nodded gently for a moment and eventually sighed. Regressing further into the kitchen, she sat down at the table and pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. "Okay," she said in a breath and dialed the phone number for the paper. It rang three times before there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Francis?" questioned Sharon and she shifted in her seat. "My name is Sharon Evans," she said, having no idea what else say.

"Mm," Francis murmured. "Can I help you?"

Sharon hesitated momentarily, not entirely sure how to go about explaining why it was she was calling. "You sent your daughter, Rachael, to stay the night with Virgil, right?"

Sharon could almost hear Francis' eyes narrow. "Yes… Why? How do you know my daughter?"

"I'm Virgil's sister," said Sharon finally, kicking herself for not saying that in the first place. "Yesterday, Virgil brought Chloé and Rachael to my house so they could play with my daughter.

"Well… some stuff happened and I was wondering if you could pick up Rachael."

"What's wrong with my Rachael?" said Francis with rising concern in his tone. "What happe—"

"Nothing," Sharon interrupted calmly, soothingly. "Nothing's wrong with her; Rachael is fine. It's… Virgil," she said, not wanting to get into a lot of detail about her brother, but also wanting to soothe Francis' concerns about his daughter.

Francis' sniffed. "Where do you live?"

"I live in Dakota," said Sharon and she divulged her address.

"Okay," Francis said, "I'll be there in an hour," and the line went dead.

When the call ended, Sharon returned her phone to her back pocket and left the paper sitting on the table. She got up and walked into the living room where Adam was talking to Virgil about some music thing, except Virgil wasn't responding. The scene, Sharon noted, looked vaguely similar to someone talking to a coma patient; the coma patient never said anything and the person talking never shut up. Rolling her eyes with a small smile, Sharon walked through and went to Chelsea's room to get Rachael.

* * *

><p>Exactly an hour later, there was a knock at the front door. Sharon and Adam were sitting on a loveseat in the living room that was sort of out of the way of the rest of the room.<p>

Adam was the one to get up. "I'll get it," he said as he made his way to the door.

He opened it to a man wearing a long beige trench coat and black boots. "Hey, Francis," said Adam, stepping aside to let the man in. "Rachael, your dad is here!" Adam called as he shut the door. He turned his attention back to Francis and said, "You can sit in the living room with us," and headed back to the loveseat he had been sharing with Sharon.

"Thanks," said Francis and made his way to the living room. He took a seat in an empty chair next to the television and let his shoulders slump slightly. When he noticed Virgil lying face down on the couch, he questioned it. "So, what's going on with Virgil?"

"He's just—" Sharon began, but cut herself off quickly when she realized who she was talking to. "Wait. Aren't you Hotstreak?" she croaked.

"Mm," Francis snorted. "I kind of just prefer Francis now."

"I—" Sharon began once again, but was once again cut off, this time by Rachael running down the steps to the living room.

"Hi, Daddy!" Rachael exclaimed and wrapped her father in a hug.

"Hey, sweetie," said Francis and he returned the hug to his daughter. "Did you have fun with Chloé?"

"I did, Daddy!" exclaimed Rachael, beaming brightly. Then her smile faltered a little bit and she glanced back at Virgil and back at her dad. "Daddy, is it okay if Chloé comes and stays with us for a little while?"

"Um…" Francis smiled at Rachael and then glanced up at Sharon. "Well, since Virgil doesn't seem to be in much of a position to make decisions," he said, glancing down at the sleeping body on the couch, "what do you think?"

"I think that sounds great. I could probably do Chloé well to get away from stuff for a little bit," said Adam before Sharon could say anything. "Maybe Chelsea could come hang out, too, so she's not here with anyone her own age."

"Adam…" said Sharon warily.

Adam glanced at Sharon, noting that her eyes were darting between Francis and himself. He sighed and said, "Sharon, do you remember how I used to be a bad guy? Well, I changed, didn't I?"

"Well, of course," said Sharon as if Adam were being crazy.

"Well, obviously Francis has changed, too," Adam pointed out as he gestured his hand toward the man in question. "Just let Chelsea and Chloé go, Sharon. They'll have more fun with Rachael at Francis' house then they will here." He paused and then added, "Besides, it would be good for Chloé. She'll be back in more than enough time for Angelica not to worry."

Sharon sighed but then she nodded. "Alright," she said and got up from the couch. She made her way to the steps and called up to Chloé and Chelsea. "Girls, get some stuff together. You're going to stay the night at Rachael's." Just as Sharon was sitting back down, the house echoed of footsteps running down the stairs.

"We're ready," said Chelsea and the both of them held up their backpacks.

Sharon narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a toothbrush?"

"Yes, Mom," Chelsea replied. "I have my toothbrush, toothpaste, clean clothes, and a comb. I have everything. I even have some extra clothes for Chloé since she didn't bring anything with her."

Sharon smiled and let out a content sigh. "Alright, then, have a good time girls," she said and got up from the couch to give Chelsea a hug and a kiss on the head. "When will you have them back, Francis?"

"Call me tomorrow," Francis replied with a slight smile and a nod. "We'll work out a time and I'll bring them back." He paused for a moment. "If that's alright."

Sharon nodded a couple times. "That sounds perfectly fine.

"Thanks, Francis," she said with a warm smile. "Thanks for helping out."

"No problem," replied Francis. He turned away from Sharon and said, "Come on, girls," as he headed for the door. Behind him strode Chelsea, Chloé, Rachael all talking excitedly about how much fun they were going to have that night.

Within moments, the door closed and the only people remaining in the house were Virgil, Adam, and Sharon.

Sharon groaned and laid her head back. "Christmas is always so stressful," she groaned.

Adam gave a low chuckle and pulled Sharon to him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

He was just about to speak when he was interrupted by Virgil rustling on the couch. Sharon and Adam both watched as Virgil pushed himself up off the couch and left the living room. They heard a door in the next room latch and glanced at one another. They watched the doorway Virgil had gone through intently until he came back fifteen minutes later.

Virgil sat down on the couch. When he didn't lay face down on the cushion¸ but instead stared off into space, Sharon got up and sat down next to her brother on the couch. Virgil glanced at Sharon just long enough for Sharon to realized how disconnect he looked. His eyes were lifeless and ashen, his face had gone pale, his lips were cracked and chapped, and his dreads were coming apart even more so than the previous day. He resembled a ghost and it made Sharon's stomach do a flip; she had never seen her brother so miserable, and with only three days until Christmas. It was at that moment Sharon realized just how much she was not looking forward to Christmas Eve because Angelica and Virgil always fought about something; she couldn't imagine what it would be like with Virgil in his current state.

Biting her upper lip, Sharon leaned in and hugged Virgil tightly. Much to her surprise, Virgil returned it unlike the previous night, so she tightened the hold. She noted that Virgil smelled like body odor and nicotine and upturned her nose to avoid smelling it. She figured that when Virgil was ready to worry about it, he would go take a shower. She just sort of hoped that would be soon, because it was pretty bad.

"Thanks, Sharon," said Virgil as he pulled away from the hug.

Virgil pulled his legs onto the couch and leaned against the armrest. Sharon took that as a sign Virgil wanted to lay back down, so she moved back over to the loveseat and let Virgil fall to his side, and he turned to face the back of the couch. He pulled his legs to his chest and fell back to sleep, which was made apparent by the light snoring that echoed throughout the living room.

After a few moments of watching Virgil sleep, Sharon turned to Adam and asked, with a smile, "What do you suppose he was thanking me for?" to which Adam answered with a simple shrug.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Meh. I'm not sure if I like this chapter, but Aintzane411 had a good point: I'm allowed one off chapter and I'm not getting paid for this, anyway. I'm just not sure I'm a fan of how much dialogue is in this chapter, but I guess, sometimes, you have to have a dialogue driven chapter.

For anyone that's wondering about Richie, I'm going to worry about him and what he's doing later. I promise it'll be fantastic. Just two more days until Christmas Eve and I PROMISE this whole adventure will come together. :D

Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Please, please review! I would seriously appreciate it! I'll even give a special shout-out to whomever decides to be reviewer number 10! =3


	13. Chapter XIII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"Sit up, Virgil," said Robert as he walked into the living room. He had spent the better part of two hours talking to Sharon and Adam before going into the living room to be with his son.<p>

Robert stood at the edge of the couch and watched Virgil hawkeyed. When five minutes had passed and Virgil had still not moved, Robert patiently cleared his throat to note he was still waiting. Another two minutes passed, and Robert was about to clear his throat again, when Virgil cut him off by pushing himself, with a rather irritated groan, to sit at the very edge of the couch. He crossed his arms looked down diagonally to avoid eye contact.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, Virgil?" said Robert, ignoring the irritation Virgil was displaying, as he steadily lowered himself onto the cushion next to Virgil. "Sharon said you have been moping on the couch for two days."

Virgil drew in a deep breath and let it out with a groan. He dropped his face in his hands and tangled his fingers through his dreads. He steadily shook his head and said, "Not really."

Robert gently pressed on the issue. He knew Virgil had his limits, but he could also tell that Virgil really needed to open up; really wanted to open up. "Sharon said you saw Richie two nights ago, Virgil. Want to tell me what happened?"

"No," said Virgil simply. He crossed his arms tightly around his chest and doubled over, laying his head on his lap and turning his face away from Robert.

Robert smiled sympathetically as he watched Virgil attempt to shut him out. He reached out a hand lay it on Virgil's back, which caused Virgil to flinch. When he relaxed some, Robert began making soothing circles around the neck and shoulders.

After about fifteen minutes, Virgil finally turned his head so he was able to see his father. He craned his vision so he could see his father and said, "Not while Sharon and Adam are in here," in a quiet tone.

Robert looked up Sharon and Adam, made a sideways motion, and immediately Sharon ushered Adam and herself upstairs. When Robert heard a door click shut in the distance, he turned his attention back to Virgil, and said assuredly, "They're gone, Virgil." He withdrew his hand to his lap so Virgil could sit up.

Cautiously looking around the room, to make sure that he and his father really were the only people around, Virgil let out a long, disconsolate sigh. He shifted awkwardly in his seat for a few minutes, and occasionally glanced at his father who maintained the same patient expression while Virgil desperately searched for the words to describe what he wanted to say.

There were no words, though; at least none that Virgil could conjure. Virgil had never been all that great at expressing his feelings, but, since it was that quality that got him into this mess, he figured he may as well open up. He honestly had nothing else to loose, but also had no idea where to start.

Taking in a deep breath, Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, covered his closed eyes with his hand, and opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, as if he were practicing what he wanted to say.

Finally, Virgil blurted out, "I'm gay," and everything that came after it was like a dam with a hole in it.

Being African-American and gay was a lot different than being Caucasian and gay, and Virgil knew that. He had always known that. There was a lot to being a double minority, especially when African-American culture taught him he had to be masculine; that he had to be a man, and being gay did not equal that.

Virgil had become aware of his sexuality when he was fifteen, but because of social pressures, he hid it, and he hid it well. Then when he was twenty-two, Richie came out to him; the man Virgil clandestinely loved came out to him, and Virgil let himself be carried away by emotions, while completely ignoring logic. The next day, the realization that Virgil had slept with Richie hit him, he got scared, and he ran; ran into the arms of a woman he barely knew, a woman he never really loved, and lived a facade of a straight man, until he got divorced, at which point he started smoking to ignore the reality, and blamed it on stressors such as the divorce and bills.

Hot tears stung Virgil's cheeks as the confessions rolled and he doubled over on himself again. "I never meant to hurt Richie, pops," he cried, "I was scared; I didn't know what else to do..." Though he did know he should have been honest with Richie because, perhaps, he would still have his friend if he had been honest. "I really messed up, pops."

Suddenly, Robert pulled Virgil into a hug and said, "I'm proud of you, Virgil."

Virgil drew in a sharp breath through his nose and said, "Why? There's nothing to be proud of, pops..."

"I'm proud you came out to me, Virgil," said Robert as he pushed Virgil far enough away to look at his face. "What you did to Richie… well, that was bad, Virgil, but that's in the past; we can't change that now." Robert paused momentarily and pushed Virgil away far enough to see his face when he felt Virgil tense. He watched his son display a series of emotions, mostly entailing anger and guilt. When Virgil dropped his head, Robert pulled him back into a hug and said, "What matters right now is you came to terms with being gay, and you told me, and I'm proud of that."

Virgil sighed. His chin fell to his chest and he said, "I should have done it sooner, though; I should have… I shouldn't have tried so hard to be something I'm not. Maybe…"

"There's no sense fretting over the past, Virgil," urged Robert.

Virgil sighed again. Sure it was a relief to finally be out with his father; to finally be accepting of himself, but that was never going to change the fact that he pushed away the only person he ever loved and truly cared about, all because he didn't want to come to terms with his sexuality. Virgil groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, blinking a few times. He looked around the room, noticing how dark it had gotten outside. The clock on the wall said it was nearing 10:30.

"I'm going to take a shower," said Virgil as he got up off the couch. He made his way to the staircase before turning back to Robert and saying, "Thanks, pops."

When Virgil was upstairs and the sound of a locking door echoed throughout the room, Sharon and Adam came back into the living room and sat on either side of Robert. No one said anything for several minutes, but it was Sharon who finally broke the silence.

"So… what happened? What did he say?"

Robert smiled and patted Sharon's knee, looking her in the eye. "It's not my place to say. He'll tell you when he's ready."

Reluctantly, Sharon nodded. "Alright, Daddy," she said with a smile. Then after a few minutes, she finally thought to ask, "Where did he go?" because she had barely seen Virgil get off the couch for two days, so it shocked her Virgil had moved.

"He went to take a shower."

"He… he doesn't have any clean clothes, though," said Sharon with narrowed eyes. "What is he going to wear? His clothes smell like body odor and nicotine…

"Where are you going?" Sharon asked Adam as her attention suddenly diverted to her husband leaving the room.

"To get Virgil some clean clothes," said Adam with a shrug as he continued out of the room and upstairs.

Robert and Sharon sighed simultaneously and leaned back on the couch. Neither of them said anything, but they were both sure they were thinking the same thing. Robert talking to Virgil had been a good thing for him; he finally had someone to be open and honest with, and he seemed to be in a better mood. However, Sharon and Robert worried about how long that happiness would last. With Christmas Even less than two hours away, the hours until Angelica arrived became slimmer. Just like every Christmas Eve for five years, the two were without a doubt going to argue, and considering the events of recent days, the possibility that seeing Angelica would be hard on Virgil's psyche was huge.

The next twenty-four hours were certainly going to be interesting.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I'm aware that I basically started this chapter out of nowhere, but I wasn't sure of any other way to get the chapter going. Besides, the last chapter ended with Francis taking Chloé and Chelsea to his house, and this chapter started with Robert being at Sharon's house, the next night. There wasn't going to be anything interesting in between. So I got this...

Lots of angst, right? There will be more. I'm thinking three or four more chapters to this story...

Anyway. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I would ask you for reviews, but no one ever does, so there's no point. So... I'm just going to stick with hoping you liked the chapter. Chapter 14 will come soon.


	14. Chapter XIV

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Christmas Eve with everyone at the Evans residence was always absolutely hectic. This particular Christmas Eve was proving to not be an exception. From daybreak on, there was not a single soul resting; everyone had their part and everyone was doing it. From the moment Sharon got up and got dressed, she planted herself in the kitchen and began to slave over the Christmas Eve dinner (she got a lot better at cooking over the years). Virgil and Adam were responsible for driving to Gotham and picking up Chloé and Chelsea from Francis' house, even if Virgil would have preferred lying on the couch and mopping. Finally, Robert was responsible for making sure that nothing got too out of hand and being the grandpa; the grandparent never had a role beyond just being there, though he did chip in with Sharon whenever she needed an extra hand in the kitchen.<p>

"Thanks for coming with me, Virgil," said Adam, briefly looking at the man in the passenger seat as he glanced out the back window. When he saw no one was coming, he pulled out of the driveway.

"No problem, Adam," replied Virgil with a smile and a nod. "I guess it would only make sense that I come with you, considering I know where Francis lives."

For the next ten minutes or so, the two of them remained quiet except for the occasional direction given from Virgil when Adam urged him to say which way he needed to go. Virgil leaned his head against the door and stared out the window, deciding that if he wasn't going to mope at home, then he was just to pseudo-mope in Adam's car. He felt better after coming out to his father the previous night, but that was not going change the guilt he felt.

"It's not your fault, Virgil," offered Adam, which caused Virgil to yank his attention away from the window and toward him. Adam glanced over at Virgil long enough to note the look of confusion displayed by his knitted eyebrows.

"What's not my fault?"

"Whatever it was that happened with Richie."

Virgil raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you know?"

Adam shrugged. "Only what happened last night," he said. "What way do I turn up here?"

"Left," said Virgil as he pointed in that direction for clarification. "What makes you think I blame myself for anything?"

"I recognize the frustration, Virgil," said Adam, giving Virgil a sideways glance. "You're mad at yourself for something. Whatever it is, it's not your fault," he reiterated.

Virgil gave a long, frustrated sigh and slumped into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. There were several minutes in which Virgil said nothing and continued to dismally stare out the window. Finally, Virgil sighed heavily and turned to face Adam once again, his arms still crossed standoffishly.

"I'm gay, okay?" Virgil admitted and knitted his eyebrows; the words were still so new. Virgil wasn't used to being so open about it. When the comment received no emotion of any sort from Adam, he continued. "I know that's not my fault…" he closed his eyes and drew in a breath through his nose, "but it is my fault for pushing Richie away because I didn't want to accept it."

"You accept it now," Adam pointed out with a shrug.

"Yeah, but that isn't going to make Richie quit hating me!" Virgil nearly snapped. Letting out a sigh, Virgil sniffed briefly and bit his bottom lip. He looked back out the window as continued to speak. "I messed up big time, Adam. I didn't just push away my best friend; I pushed away the only person I've ever actually loved…"

"Mm," Adam mumbled.

The rest of the way to Francis' house, Virgil and Adam sat in silence; save for the occasional directions Virgil gave Adam when they approached intersections. When Adam pulled into the driveway and shut off the car, he turned to Virgil with one last comment before he went to get Chloé and Chelsea.

"You know, Virgil, it may seem pointless now, but you can't give up. Maybe you saw him two days ago for a reason."

When Adam got out of the car, Virgil leaned back against the seat and exhaled through his lips. Frustrated, Virgil dragged his left hand through his dreads and let it fall to his lap with a thud. Glancing out the window, he watched as Adam had an inaudible conversation with Francis, and then saw his daughter come running into view which forced him to smile.

Maybe Adam had a point, even if Virgil couldn't bring himself to believe it. It took Virgil twenty years to finally come to terms with this his sexuality, and there was no logical reason Richie would wait around so long for that to happen. The night Virgil saw Richie played through his head like a movie. He vividly remembered the anger on Richie's face; the anger and the misery. That was not an expression of a man that was happy to see someone; that was the expression of a man who wanted nothing more than to not see him again. That was not the look of a man who was willing to give Virgil a second chance. Not to mention, that was all assuming that the meeting wasn't some big fluke; he would even see Richie again beyond that. Virgil more or less believed in things happening for a reason (mostly due to Richie convincing him spontaneity didn't make sense) but also believed there was no possibility Richie would forgive him and run back to him.

Virgil's thoughts were cut off by the doors around him suddenly opening and the voice of his daughter. "Hi, Daddy," exclaimed Chloé. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm feeling a lot better," said Virgil with a smile as he peered into the back seat. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes, Daddy, it was a lot of fun; Rachael's mom and daddy are really cool. They made us pancakes this morning." Chloé paused for a moment, but then added, "They aren't as good as your pancakes, though."

Virgil laughed causing tension he didn't know he was carrying to melt. "Well, thank you, Chloé. I'm glad you like my pancakes," he said with a grin. There was a short pause, and then Virgil added, "Are you guys ready to see grandpa? He's there and ready to see you guys."

"Grandpa!" Chloé and Chelsea exclaimed.

As two huge balls of energy, the girls turned to each other and started squealing over how excited they were about Christmas and seeing their grandpa, who the girls saw even less often than Chloé saw Virgil. At the same time, Virgil and Adam spoke casually about their work. It remained that way the entire ride home.

* * *

><p>Close to an hour after they left the house, Adam and Virgil returned with Chelsea and Chloé. They all filed out of the car and made their way up the driveway to the front door, Virgil and Adam leading with Chelsea and Chloé in toe. It wasn't until they walked into the house that Virgil and confronted by her that Virgil realized he had seen Angelica's car in the driveway.<p>

"Chloé! Hi, honey!" Angelica exclaimed sweetly and knelt down to hug her daughter. "Where have you been?"

"Hi, mom," said Chloé as returned the hug. "Chelsea and I stayed the night at Rachael's house."

"Well, that sounds like a lot of fun." Angelica smiled at Chloé but then turned her attention to Virgil and glared. Without turning her attention from Virgil, she continued to speak to her daughter in a sweet tone, "Chloé, how about you and play with Chelsea outside, alright?"

Chloé glanced at Chelsea and shrugged. "Okay," said Chloé and the both of them ran through the kitchen out the back door to the patio.

When Chloé was safely outside, Angelica said to Virgil in a hiss, "You let her out of your sight?"

"I knew who she was with!" Virgil hissed back.

"She is supposed," Angelica said with emphasis, "to be with you for the week. Not staying at Rachael's house." A loud, throaty scoff escaped through Angelica's pursed lips.

"You're right, Chloé is," said Virgil, adding emphasis, "with me, and as her father, I'm allowed to let her stay with a friend." He glared, starting to get up in her face at this point.

Angelica laughed and jabbed her hand against Virgil's chest, pushing him back, causing him to stumble slightly. "You're barely her father, Virgil. You only see her once a year."

Virgil's mouth went agape at the comment. He shoved Angelica's arm out of the way and got back in her face, and howled, "Yeah, because of you! You were the one to somehow convince the court I'm a terrible father!"

Angelica's expression lingered with amusement, as if she were surprised Virgil was mad. "You are a terrible father, Virgil! You—"

"Shut up!" Their fighting was cut off by Sharon coming between and pushing them apart at the chests. "Can we please just have one fucking Christmas Eve where you two don't fucking fight about something?" she screeched.

Angelica glanced down at Sharon, being much taller than her, and rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms and scoffed. "Whatever."

Virgil crossed his arms as well, standing at a slight diagonal. "You know, no one makes you come here, Angelica."

Angelica gasped, her eyes went wide, and her expression showed genuine hurt. "Well, excuse me," she hissed, "for wanting to see my daughter."

"Oh yeah," shrieked Virgil, pushing his sister aside and getting back into Angelica's face, to which Angelica responded by standing tall and getting back in his face. "Yeah, because seeing her three hundred and fifty-eight days a year is totally not enough for you, right? You have to come and make my life miserable for good measure, right?" he hissed.

Sharon shoved Angelica and Virgil apart with force, causing them both to stumble backward. Just like two fighting children, they crossed their arms and looked away from each other. Virgil flared a nostril in disgust and Angelica mumbled to herself about how ridiculous she thought Virgil's family was.

"I said shut up!" shrilled Sharon causing Virgil and Angelica to jerk their attention toward her. "You will not fuck up this Christmas Eve with your fucking fighting, do you understand me?" There was no response and Sharon growled to herself. "Angelica, Virgil, I asked if you fucking understand me!"

"Yes," Angelica and Virgil mumbled.

"Good," replied Sharon, irritated and annoyed. "Virgil, go outside and see what Adam is doing," she said and shoved a finger toward the door, but Virgil didn't see because he was facing away from her and Angelica. Then Sharon turned toward Angelica and hissed, "You... just go hang out with your daughter, like you're supposed to be doing. That is why you're here." Sharon narrowed her eyes.

For several moments, Virgil and Angelica stubbornly remained standing their spots.

"You know what? I'm leaving; I know when I'm not welcome," Angelica growled as she headed toward the door.

"Good," Virgil practically cried with glee, "you're not welcome here!"

Deciding she was not quiet done causing drama and stress for her ex-husband, she added, "But… just one more thing," she said with a glare directed at Virgil, "I met your little 'friend,' Richie."

Virgil whipped around, face-to-face with Angelica. He felt his heart fall to his stomach and he suddenly became nauseous. "What?" he bemoaned.

Angelica laughed and pushed her hand through her hair. "Actually, I met him a couple days ago. I just didn't realize who it was then," she said, shaking her head. "He was on a date or something that didn't go well. He seemed miserable so I spoke to him. I ended up telling him about my miserable," she said with emphasis and a glare, "ex-husband so he would feel better because I," she said with emphasis again, "actually care about people."

Virgil put his hands behind his back as they began to tighten into fists. He glared at Angelica and flared a nostril as she continued to speak.

"Then I saw him again the other day. He had no one else to talk to, so he came to me. How sweet is that?" Angelica asked mockingly and then rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she said disgustedly, "he was upset because he saw 'an old friend' he was still in love with. Do you want to know to know who that old friend was, Virgil?"

"I know who it is," Virgil growled through his teeth. He tightened his fists more.

"You're right, it was you," Angelica said in a high-pitched tone with mock enthusiasm. "He told everything. He told absolutely everything. He didn't even know who was talking to until he was done and I had put two and two together.

"He told me all about how you used him, Virgil."

"I didn't use him," said Virgil warningly, his voice breaking as he spoke.

"He told me all about how I was a rebound, Virgil," said Angelica, her voice getting louder and more pissed off. "He may not have said that, but that's not that hard to figure out."

"You weren't a rebound," said Virgil in the same tone, his voice breaking more.

Virgil began breathing deeply when he became aware of the sound of whirling electricity, attempting to subdue his hyped emotions, a sound that everyone else in the room became aware of, but didn't react to, and Angelica chose to ignore. At that moment, Virgil had never been so happy that his daughter was not in the room.

"Oh yeah," Angelica spat, "like I'm going to believe that," she said and shot Virgil a deadly glare. "Besides," she continued, "this is about Richie and his love for you. Or, you know… the love he used," she said with emphasis, "to have for you."

The lights above began to flicker violently and Virgil's breathing became more rapid as he tried to calm down. "What the fuck did you say to him, Angelica?"

Angelica raised an eyebrow at the flickering lights momentarily, but then gave an ostentatious laugh. "It doesn't matter what I said to him, Virgil. It just matters that I fixed the problem."

At that moment, Angelica was in Virgil's face and she hissed venomously as she spoke. "How dare you fucking use me, Virgil? I knew you were in love with someone else. It took me a couple years to figure it out, but I got it. I knew you never loved me as much as I loved you. Now, I find out that I married a gay man because he didn't want to accept and you never loved me because you were in love with another man?"

Just as Virgil was about to create a burst of electricity right there in the living room, hurt replaced the anger in Angelica's eyes, which caused Virgil to lose his charge and back down. Angelica drew in a deep, irritated sigh and shook her head, turning away from Virgil. "I'll be at your apartment Saturday to pick up Chloé," she said, attempting to maintain the angered tone, and left the house without another word.

For several minutes, everyone in the house stayed put; Robert, Sharon and Adam stayed on the couch as they watched Virgil, and when Virgil let out a loud growl and shot the floor with electricity, they were glad they had kept their distance. Standing amongst the smoke of his actions, Virgil's breathing became barbarically heavy and he scrunched his arms to his chest and balled his fists. He was about to create the same jolt of electricity when he looked down at the floor and suddenly his muscles relaxed; he was no longer tense. Sharon was the first to notice the tears threatening to fall, and she immediately got up and pulled Virgil into a hug.

"It's alright, Virgil," cooed Sharon as she glanced down at her burned floor. Under any other circumstance, she would have been pissed, but she understood this instance, so she let it slide. "It'll be—"

"It won't be alright, Sharon!" scowled Virgil as he pushed Sharon away from him. "I am never going to have another chance to be with Richie because Angelica convinced him I'm this horrible person to be with," he said in a broke voice as the tears began to flow. "You know what, though? It's probably because I am a horrible person—"

"You're not—" Sharon began to soothe when she was immediately cut off.

"Yes, I am!" Virgil cried. "If there was even a sliver of a hope that I was going to be with Richie before, then there most certainly isn't now!" he said as hot tears stung his cheeks. He shook his head in disbelief. "I have to be a horrible person, Sharon, because why else would I be so fucking blessed with this life; this life where I've lost my best friend, I have an ex-wife who hates me enough to ruin my only chance at happiness, I have a daughter I only see once or twice a year, I have a job where I'm so unappreciated I might as well be a cockroach, and I'm an ex-superhero! I have nothing going for me, Sharon!"

Throwing up his arms in defeat, Virgil sighed and said, "I'll be upstairs," as he deliberately walked up the stairs to the guest bedroom. The sound of the door clicking shut and locking echoed lightly.

Sharon sighed and bit her lip. "I'll be in the kitchen," she mumbled and left Robert and Adam on the couch to finish Christmas Eve dinner.

It was only 3:30 in the afternoon, but really it felt like midnight, considering how emotionally exhausted everyone felt. The topic on everyone's mind was how much more emotional stress could Virgil possibly go through. Over the course of four days, Virgil had been on such an eccentrically emotional rollercoaster ride there were moments when there was legitimate fear for his life. Virgil had been through so much in his life—his mother dying when he was nine-years-old, his best friend getting shot when he was fifteen-years-old, and struggling with his sexuality throughout his life—no one could honestly help but take pity and wonder when Virgil would be cut some slack; when the time would come that Virgil could be genuinely happy with whatever he had in his life. It broke the heart of his family to see him so shattered, so broken, and it hurt even worse to know there was nothing they could do.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I PROMISE that I am almost done putting Virgil through so much shit. My heart is aching for him at this point because I've put him through so much anguish. There's just so much angst with him... and it really does make me feel bad. Him hurting so much is absolutely killing me.

I hope I did this chapter well and it didn't seem rushed or anything. I'm going to be bringing back Angelica in the next chapter, I think? I PROMISE YOU there will be fluff AT SOME POINT. I'm not going to promise you when, because I don't want to disappoint you when it doesn't happen, but I PROMISE it WILL be there.

Please review! I really do love reviews!


	15. Chapter XV

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"What do you think I should do about that burn?"<p>

Robert drew in a deep breath and leaned forward. He laced his fingers together, rested his elbows on his lap, and placed his chin on his hands. Shaking his head gently, he puffed out an airy laugh and said to Adam, "Virgil can pay you to have it fixed."

Adam's eyes grew wide and he tilted his head diagonally toward Robert. "Oh, no, Robert, that's not necessary. I'm sure he didn't mean to… you know… burn my floor…" he trailed off and turned attention back to the blackened carpet. Clearing his throat, Adam said, "We needed a new carpet, anyway."

"Well, he'll at least help you replace it," offered Robert, but Adam could tell by the tone of his father-in-law that it was nonnegotiable, so he simply nodded. "Just because he's upset," Robert began, after a moment of thought, "doesn't mean he has the right to destroy things." Unlacing his fingers, he dropped his hands to his lap and leaned back on the couch again.

"Well, can't say I blame him," said Adam as he shrugged, leaning back into the couch as well. "I'm certainly not mad, anyway. It's just a carpet."

With a grunt, Adam hoisted himself off the couch. He meandered over to the hallway and returned moments later with a rolled up rug. Kneeling down, he unrolled the rug over the burn. Adam looked up at Robert with a smile and said, "That'll work for now; can't even tell anything happened," as he got to his feet. "I'll plan fix it after the New Year."

* * *

><p>"Aunt Sharon?" questioned Chloé's voice in a small tone. "When is dinner going to be ready? Chelsea and I are hungry."<p>

With a soft laugh, Sharon set down the knife she had been using to slice ham, and turned her head toward the door that led to the back patio. In the doorway stood Chloé and Chelsea, elbow to elbow, obvious signs of hunger glistening in their eyes.

With a grin, Sharon looked away just long enough to cut a piece of sliced ham in half. "Here," she said, offering each of the girls a piece, which they hungrily accepted, "that should tide you over for a little bit. Everything is just about ready; we should be eating in about… fifteen minutes. Okay?"

"Okay," said Chloé and Chelsea simultaneously as Sharon looked back to the ham to continue slicing it.

Chloé and Chelsea continued to stand in the doorway as they watched Sharon slice ham. When she finished that task, Sharon moved on to putting rolls on a tray to be put in the oven. The girls stood quietly for five or six minutes before Chelsea finally questioned, "Mom?"

Sharon glanced down at her daughter briefly, then returned to the ham, attempting to nicely plate it. "Yes, Chelsea?" she questioned.

"Can Chloé and I go upstairs? It's too cold outside now. It started snowing."

Sharon grinned. She glanced out the kitchen window to confirm that it was, in fact, snowing. Judging by how fast it was falling and how easily it was sticking, she figured they would have a couple inches by morning. Looking down at Chelsea and Chloé, Sharon said, "Of course."

"Let's go to my room," said Chelsea as she gestured to Chloé. "We can play with Barbie's again."

"Okay, I like that," replied Chloé with a quick nod.

Chloé tagged behind Chelsea by about a foot as they made their way to the bedroom. Just as they were about to go into the room, Chloé had a realization that made her stop dead in her tracks. She knitted her eyebrows and looked around, trying to find something or someone which was obviously not present.

"What's wrong, Chloé?" asked Chelsea. "Are you having another sense?"

Chloé shook her head. She continued looking around the hallway until her eyes met Chelsea's gaze. "Where are my mom and daddy? I just noticed I didn't see them downstairs…"

Chelsea shrugged. "I don't know, Chloé," she said. "I'm sure they're around, though."

Before they had a chance to mull over the whereabouts of Angelica and Virgil further, the boisterous sound of Sharon's voice filled the household with: "Dinner is ready!" Chloé and Chelsea responded by turning around and charging down the stairs to the table where they took their seats, side by side, at one end of the table. Robert took a spot of honor at the other end, and Sharon and Adam sat side by side across from the spot set for Virgil.

* * *

><p>Stirring on the overly yellow-colored guest bed, Virgil let go of a groan as he blinked a few times. Squeezing his eyes closed, he grimaced as he raised his hand and wiped the corner of his lip. Blinking his eyes open again, he looked down at the pillow that was puddled with saliva. "Eh," he groaned. Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed and looked around the room. Smacking his lips together gently from the weird taste in his mouth, he rubbed his eyes with the middle fingers of his hands. Finally, before standing up, Virgil reached his arms behind his head stretched until his back cracked satisfyingly and he let out a pleasured groan.<p>

For only a jiffy was Virgil genuinely happy; a hallucinated happiness created by the nap from which he had just woken. Just as quickly had Virgil experienced the happiness, it was torn away from him and replaced with the gut-wrenching, nauseating realization of utter despair he had felt before falling asleep. Moaning, Virgil grasped the sides of his head, shut his eyes, and dropped his head toward the ground. He shook his head between his hands making him aware of the tears in the corner of his eyes.

Drawing in a deep breath again, he let go of his head and looked up at the room before him. "Okay," he muttered to himself.

With that, he got up from the bed, went to a nearby mirror to fix his dreads, and made his way down the steps to the dining room where he found everyone already eating and engaging in casual conversation.

"Glad to know I was invited," Virgil said sarcastically as he took his seat at the table. He didn't notice the looks of surprise he was getting as his attention was focused on filling his plate with food. Glancing up only briefly, Virgil said, "Pass the potatoes."

"Here you go, Daddy," Chloé said, happy to see that her father had come to the table.

Chloé had inquired about her parents when she sat down at the table. While she had been upset to discover that her mother left, she was at least relieved to know that her father was still at the house—because it was her dad Chloé was there to see—but had been told that he may not join them for dinner because he 'wasn't feeling very well.'

When Virgil had gotten his fill of potatoes, he placed them in an empty spot on the table and said to Chloé, "Thank you, baby," as he leaned over to place a kiss on his daughter's head.

"You're welcome, Daddy," said Chloé with a smile.

Chloé turned back to her meal and continued conversing with Chelsea, leaving Virgil to the scrutiny he was unaware of; he had not looked up from his plate, except to find the potatoes, during the entire time he had been sitting at the table. He was uncharacteristically in a good mood, and it was a little concerning for everyone around him, except Chloé and Chelsea, who were unaware that anything was out of the ordinary.

"Virgil, are you okay?" Sharon asked cautiously before taking another bite of ham.

"I'm great, Sharon," Virgil replied. "Never felt better."

_Reaction Formation_, Sharon thought. She drew in quick breath through her nose. For a few moments, she focused on eating her meal as she picked and chose what to say next. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything, but fortunately, Adam took over the conversation with Virgil.

"You going to watch football with me, Virgil?" asked Adam. It was something they did every Christmas Eve. It's the Giants versus the Chargers. It's supposed to be a great game."

Virgil hesitated over an answer. His eye twitched before he squeezed them closed completely. Inhaling shallowly, he finally responded with a nod. "Of course, Adam; we watch football every year. Why would this year be any different?" he joked with a somewhat forced laugh.

"Just making sure," Adam said with a light laugh and shrugged. When another thought came to mind, he offered, "We can watch it in the garage." Since Chloé was there, Adam didn't vocalize why he had made the offer—Virgil had made it clear he didn't want Chloé knowing he smoked—but Adam was positive Virgil knew the reason for the offer.

Virgil harshly swallowed the food he had in his mouth. "That sounds fine," he said with a prominent nod. "Probably going to need it after this meal," Virgil continued. "It's really good, Sharon."

Sharon widened her eyes at the comment. It took her a minute to comprehend Virgil had just complimented her. "Um… well, thank you, Virgil. I'm glad you like it," she said, barely noticing the smile gracing Virgil's lips. She would have, of course, been able to see it better had Virgil been looking up.

There was a long pause amongst everyone at the table, for the most part. Chloé and Chelsea murmured about their schools and teachers who they liked or did not like, but that was the only talking in the room. Sharon busied herself with eating her meal, attempting to ignore her brother for the time being, and Adam filled his plate for another round. The only person not concerned with food was Robert, who had his attention fixated on Virgil who was gingerly eating his dinner. After ten minutes like that, Robert finally spoke up.

"Virgil, look at us," Robert instructed. "If you're going to be able the table, be part of this family dinner." While Robert did want Virgil to engage in the family dinner more, he also wanted to see his son's face; he wanted to see if he could tell what Virgil was thinking and feeling.

Slowly, Virgil rested his fork on the plate. He spent the next three minutes keeping his attention away from Robert, attempting to contort a smile to his lips. Breathing deep, Virgil plastered the smile he had warped on his lips and finally looked up. When he earned an echo of gasps, Virgil quickly looked back down.

"Virgil," Sharon said, "are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Sharon," Virgil said, irritation prevalent in his tone, "I said I'm fine. Please stop asking."

"I'm just—"

"Yeah, I know, Sharon, you're just making sure. Well, stop making sure, because I'm fine. Okay?"

Sharon nodded slowly, carefully. "Okay."

"I'm going outside," announced Virgil as he pushed back from the table. He was only a couple steps from the table when his father's harsh voice halted him in his tracks.

"Virgil, you can't just leave the table. This is family time; you are part of this family."

Virgil stood in his spot for a few minutes, debating over what to say. He wanted to go outside and smoke. Finally, after much consideration, Virgil finally said, "All due respect, pops, I don't really care. I'm going outside."

"Virgil, is this still about Richie? Because you need to accept that—"

Something in Virgil finally snapped and he spun around on his heels. His eyes were filled a fire that no one had ever seen before causing Sharon and Adam to inadvertently push back from the table. Chloé and Chelsea abruptly stopped their conversation and looked up, startled by the bellowing sound of Virgil's voice.

"Don't sit there and tell me what I do and don't need to accept, father," he hissed with emphasis, "I am not one of your fucking clients;" he yelled, unaware of anything but his anger, "I do not need your counseling; I am perfectly fine! Perfectly fucking fine! I have already accepted that Richie is never coming back; I have already accepted that all I ever do is fuck up things! Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to accept?"

Virgil let out a breath through his nose like a pissed off bull. "So I would just really appreciate it if you all would stop pretending like I'm some bomb that's about to explode and you have no idea how to stop it!" he groaned loudly.

Virgil threw up his arms in defeat. The anger began dripping from his face, immediately being replaced with indifference. "I knew coming down here would be a mistake…" Sighing, Virgil stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Turning away from everyone, Virgil mumbled out an "I'm sorry" and headed toward the patio door.

As Virgil left the room, Sharon quickly got up from her seat and walked over to Chloé and Chelsea who were more shocked by the sudden outburst than scared by it. "Come on, girls, let's go upstairs. We'll play a game," Sharon said, holding out her hands. Chelsea and Chloé graciously accepted Sharon's offered hands and were led upstairs.

At the same time Sharon was leaving with the girls, Robert was getting up to go outside when a hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. "Let me talk to him," said Adam. "It would probably be better if he talked to someone he didn't just blow up on."

After a few minutes, Robert nodded reluctantly, knowing that it probably was better for Adam to talk to Virgil.

Just as Adam was about to the patio door, there was a ring of the doorbell, followed by a series of knocks, at the front door. Turning around on his heels, Adam went to answer the door instead. His eyes went a little wide when he came face-to-face with the visitor. "Richie?"

Richie glanced down at the ground and shuffled his feet slightly. "Um… Is Virgil here?"

"Yeah," said Adam with an inviting motion of his hand. "He's on the patio. Come on; I'll take you to him," he said and shut the front door. "Just bear in mind… he's kind of in a bad mood," Adam politely warned, but since Richie was the reason Virgil was in a bad mood, Adam didn't really figure Richie actually needed the warning.

Adam and Richie made their way through the house to the patio. They found Virgil sitting in a plastic chair, facing away from the door, smoking, just as Adam had figured Virgil would be doing.

"Virgil? There's someone here to see you," said Adam.

"I don't want to see anyone," Virgil groaned. "I'm not really in the mood right now. Can you just ask if we can reschedule?" He took another drag of his cigarette and crossed his legs in addition to his already crossed arms. He had been working as a lawyer, he knew, because he had just told Adam something he typically would have said to Elaine.

"I'm already here, Virgil. You might as well schedule me in now," said Richie, his tone dripping with harsh sarcasm. He put his hands firm on his hips.

"Richie?" Virgil croaked, jumping up and whipping around at an impressive speed. Eye-to-eye, Virgil said, "What are you... what are you doing here?" as his voice cracked.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: To be honest, I am quiet proud of this chapter. I hope you guys liked it. Please review, guys!

Just one thing I can think to say: I am so stoked that Richie is finally back. Like, you don't even know. I can't wait to write some Richie/Virgil dialogue. In fifteen chapters, I have not written one word of present tense Richie/Virgil conversation. It's _**way**_ overdue!


	16. Chapter XVI

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Adam had long since retreated into the house, and for close to ten minutes, all Richie and Virgil could do was stare at one another soundlessly. This time it was different, though; this time, Richie seemed a lot calmer, and Virgil was unsure whether he should be frightened by that or not.<p>

Just a couple days prior, Virgil had found himself in a similar face-to-face situation with Richie, which ultimately lead to Virgil living the next few days miserably. If Richie had returned to talk to Virgil about anything other than something good, Virgil wasn't sure how his heart would be able to handle it.

Of course, just seeing Richie had come back at all had to be a good thing; it had to because they weren't dating, which obviously had to mean he wanted to talk about something good.

Unless, of course, he wanted to talk about how they could never be friends again, and that Richie and Virgil seeing each on Monday was nothing but a fluke, and Richie still hated Virgil and was always going to. But then why would he come back to say all that? Actions obviously spoke louder than words, and Richie could have portrayed that same idea by never coming to see him again.

So the burning question remained: Why was Richie here?

Virgil shifted uncomfortably, the burning cigarette rested against his hip, firmly between his fingers. When Virgil finally realized that Richie didn't know he smoked, he whipped around and put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table. Letting out a low, long sigh, Virgil turned back around to find Richie staring at him even more intently.

Tuesday morning, after seeing Virgil again the previous night, Richie made a decision that he was done being hopelessly in love with Virgil. He was done spending countless days thinking about the man who had broken his heart; thinking about the man he should realistically have stopped loving after a couple months, at the absolute most. There was no logical reason that Richie would still love Virgil after twenty years; there was nothing about Virgil that made him different from all the other men he'd dated.

But then again, maybe there was; maybe there was something different about Virgil. So, after seeing him Monday night, Richie decided he needed to talk to someone about his feelings. Hours of pointless driving landed Richie in the heart of Gotham and he made a split-second decision to go to the café he had been to for his failed date. Angel had helped him feel better that afternoon, so perhaps she could help him work out his emotions.

"_I'm still in love with a man I haven't seen for twenty years."_

Richie sighed as the memories of that night began to reel through his thoughts. For two days Richie had done nothing by replay select parts of the conversation he and Angel had had.

"_Well, tell me about him."_

Richie cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. He watched intently as Virgil displayed his discomfort for the current situation, noting every muscle spasm, dart of the eyes, clench of the fingers, and bite of the lip. For a moment, Richie debated whether it was Virgil's level of comfort that made him fidgety or an obvious addiction to nicotine. Either way, in that moment, Richie realized there was a lot about Virgil he didn't know; a lot that had changed about the man standing in front of him.

"_Wait. Did you just say the names Chloé and Virgil?"_

"_Yes. Why?"_

"_As in... Virgil_ Hawkins_?"_

"_That's exactly who I mean. How do you know him?"_

"_Virgil is my ex-husband. He's the one I was telling you about; the one that's still in love with..._

"_I thought I recognized you."_

The remainder of the conversation consisted of Angelica giving Richie a slew of reasons why he shouldn't waste his time with Virgil. Most of the arguments were rather compelling, and after leaving the café, Richie found himself oddly satisfied with the conversation. He wasn't going to waste his time with Virgil any longer; he was going to let the love dissipate and move on with his life; he was going to find a man, settle down, and continue living his life, but now he would be happy and free of the love he felt for Virgil.

At least, for a short period he was.

Richie was torn from his thoughts when he noticed Virgil fishing through his pockets from his lighter. Richie only knew what Virgil was looking for because he had a fresh cigarette parting his lips. Inhaling quickly through his nose, Richie closed the gap between Virgil and himself only long enough to snatch the cigarette away and toss it on the table. When his actions awarded him an irritated look from Virgil, Richie spoke to justify himself.

"You don't need that," said Richie as he stepped back to his original spot. "Nicotine is bad for you."

Virgil rolled his eyes and snatched the cigarette from the table. He returned it to the box as he said, "I know that, Richie."

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't be doing it," Richie pointed out as he crossed his arms.

Virgil drew in a long, deep breath through his nose to calm his nerves. When he finally felt his muscles relax a little bit, he said, emphasizing every word to portray his irritation, "I highly doubt you came here to criticize me for smoking."

Richie blinked and cleared his throat. Crossing his arms, he leaned against a nearby pillar and said, "No, I didn't," quietly. "I came here because I want to talk to you."

As he bent down to pick up the overturned chair, Virgil muttered, "About what?" When the chair was upright, Virgil sat down, crossed his arms, and looked up at Richie as he waited for an answer.

"Us," said Richie simply.

"What about us?"

There was a long pause. During that silence, Richie scoped out the patio until he spotted another chair similar to the one Virgil occupied. He left his spot against the pillar to drag the chair across the patio and set it down across from Virgil. As he took his seat, Richie muttered his response. "That I still love you."

Virgil blinked. Knitting his eyebrows together, he crossed his arms tighter and said, "If you still love me, why did you run?"

Richie narrowed his eyes as traces of the same venom from Monday filled them. "Taking someone's virginity and then running off to marry someone else the next day doesn't exactly make a person happy, Virgil," he spat. "I've spent a good part of twenty years trying to convince myself to hate you, too."

"Oh," Virgil said simply, softly. He let out the smallest of sighs through his nose.

Richie crossed his arms and legs and slumped into the chair. "I talked to Angelica the other day," he finally admitted.

Virgil let his head tip downward so he could stare at the ground. His eyebrows furrowed slightly and he narrowed his gaze. "I know. She told me."

"So, she also to you she gave one hundred and one really fantastic reasons why I shouldn't be wasting my time here?" Richie growled. The words came out a little harsher than Richie had meant for them to, but it got his point across, so he didn't bother trying to fix his tone.

Virgil nodded. He tried to say something, but the words got hitched in his throat. He crossed his legs and slipped his hand into his sweater pocket. He clutched his hand around the pack of cigarettes, figuring that if couldn't smoke one, he could at least get some comfort knowing they were there.

"I had no intention of even coming back here," Richie announced, uncrossing his arms. "Angelica had a really good point: Have you ever really loved anyone? Is there anyone you haven't hurt, Virgil?"

When there was no response from the man Richie was addressing, he continued. "I've wanted to be with you for a long time, even though I logically know that is incredibly stupid. You may not see it this way, Virgil, but you cheated on me, and I don't do well with people cheating on me. I broke up with my last boyfriend because of that."

"Your last boyfriend?" Virgil echoed, his voice croaking, and he finally looked up at Richie. Judging by the look on his face, Virgil figured that that being the only thing he commented on was entirely the wrong thing to say, but there was no taking it back now.

"Yes, Virgil, my last boyfriend. I wasn't going to just sit around and be single for the rest of my life," said Richie, his tone filled with annoyance. Letting out a groan, Richie rolled his eyes and said, "I dated this guy named Mike for, like, fifteen years. I met him when I worked in Albany.

"Now, if you have no more questions about my personal life, I would like to continue," Richie spat.

"Sorry," Virgil said softly, looking back down at the ground. He tightened his hold on his cigarettes, not exactly worried if he broke them.

Richie sighed loudly. He pressed his hands to his temples and shut his eyes, briefly trying to calm down. Clearing his throat just as loudly as he sighed, Richie opened his eyes again and let his hands fall to his lap. He stared at Virgil for a few moments, noticing how badly Virgil's left hand was shaking. The realization resulted in Richie letting out a softer, more sympathetic sigh. The last thing Richie wanted to do was send Virgil into an anxiety attack, no matter how pissed off he was.

"I came over because it occurred to me that I never got your side of the story," Richie said softly. "After talking with Angelica, I was set on letting you just become a memory, but then I realized that, if I was going to talk to Angelica, I might as well get all the details, which meant coming to talk to you.

"So, I'm here because I want to know why you ran off and got married. I want to know why you would knowingly break my heart."

Lifting his head, Virgil darted his gaze to something diagonally away from him. He pressed his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, nervously gathering together the words to portray what he wanted to say. Finally, he dropped his hand to his lap and turned his attention back to Richie who was intently, and patiently, waiting for Virgil to answer.

"I was scared," Virgil finally said.

When a long silence danced between Richie and Virgil, Richie decided he would try to coax more information out of Virgil with some open-ended questions. "Why were you scared?" he asked gently.

Virgil drew in a deep breath, sucked in his lips, and let his eyes become dampened from threatening tears. "I was afraid of being gay," he managed to choke out.

Richie sighed. "Virgil, I was scared when I realized I was g—"

"It's not like that, Richie," Virgil interrupted with a hiccup of words. He sat up a little bit straighter and let go of the cigarettes. He crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to talk. "I'm not saying being gay is a walk in the park for anyone, but you're white, Richie. I'm a double minority…

Being gay is about the worst thing you can be in the African-American culture. At least, it was twenty years ago… I don't know if anything has changed or not, but..."

Virgil sighed heavily. He pulled his feet up onto the chair and crossed his arms over his legs. Biting the inside of his cheek, he rested his chin on his knees and looked down at the ground. Richie had been giving him looks of sympathy while he spoke and Virgil didn't want to see it; he didn't want to feel like some kind of charity case.

"I don't know, Richie, I just… I couldn't accept being gay," Virgil said, his tone a little more even but still teary. "I never meant to hurt you. I know I should have talked to you, but…" Clearing his throat, Virgil sighed and got his thoughts back on track. "Look, I've been aware of my sexuality since I was fifteen, but that… that didn't stop me from trying to hide it; trying to ignore it. When you came out to me… when you told me you loved me… I don't know. I… I let my guard down and I let myself be with you, because… I guess I felt the same… and I know I shouldn't have because I couldn't—I didn't want to return that love. So, I thought… maybe if I ran off and got married to Angelica…"

"…you could live the life of a straight man and everything would be fine…" Richie said, finishing Virgil's obvious thoughts. He said his next statement as gently as he could manage, not wanting to sound sarcastic. "How did that work out for you?"

"Well," Virgil began monotone, "I have an ex-wife, a daughter I barely see, a shattered friendship, and an addiction to nicotine… so…"

"I see," Richie said simply.

There was another long pause—this one ranging around fifteen minutes—where neither of them made even the slightest noise. They barely moved as they were both lost in their thoughts. Richie played over everything Virgil had just told him, and Virgil played over everything he had just told Richie. As Virgil remained lost in his thoughts, the silence started becoming too much, and Virgil's hands were shaking too violently. Much to Richie's dismay, Virgil caved and reached into his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. He lit the white stick, took a long drag, and exhaled the smoke with a content sigh, his shaking hands instantly calming down.

"You're really that addicted," Richie pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Mm," Virgil mumbled. He let out a deep sigh, exhaling the smoke from another long drag. "It calms the nerves."

"So does sleeping, reading, and taking a long bath," Richie pointed out.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't have time for reading; my job is too hectic, which means I also don't have time to take relaxing baths."

"I also said 'sleeping' was one," Richie pointed out.

"I prefer smoking. It's more instantaneous," Virgil replied as he shrugged. Letting out another puff of air, he said, "Besides, I only smoke once a day."

"Funny, because in the two hours I've been here, I'm pretty sure that's the second one I've seen you smoke," said Richie as he raised both of his eyebrows knowingly. "Care to try that again?"

Virgil shot Richie a deathly glare. "I usually," he said with emphasis, "only smoke one, then," he hissed. "Is that better?"

"Well, no need to get nasty," Richie spat back, raising his arms in defense. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"No offense, Richie," Virgil shot back, "but I can do that myself. I don't really need someone I haven't seen in twenty years telling me how to live my life."

Richie blinked, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. He should have known seeing Virgil would be a terrible idea. "Whatever," Richie said, disgustedly, as he pushed himself up from his seat. "I'm leaving. It's getting late, anyway. I don't really want to walk home in the dark."

Virgil's eyes went wide at the realization that Richie leaving. "Wait," he cried out desperately as he outstretched an arm to grab Richie's wrist. He tugged Richie back. Looking up at him from his seat, he asked, "Don't you want to know more of the story?"

Richie gave an amused laugh mixed with a scoff. "No, not if you're going to be an ass," Richie paused to collect his thoughts. "I came here because I was hoping, maybe, I was wrong about you;" he began, "hoping that maybe there was a reason I saw you on Monday after still loving you for so long." Richie paused briefly again.

Virgil let go of Richie's arm as he said, quietly, "Is there?"

Richie sighed. After a beat, he sat back down his previous spot. Evenly, he said, "Well, you're not exactly giving me one."

Instantaneously, without giving it any thought, Virgil said, "What if I said I've always loved you? It just took me awhile to figure it out…" Once the words started flowing, Virgil couldn't seem to make them stop. He desperately wanted Richie to stay; he didn't want to lose his only real friend again. "You were the only person that ever completely put up with my crap, even when no one else would. You were the only person that was there for me, no matter what, and you stood behind me, even when I didn't deserve it. All you ever did was… care about me; watch out for me… and even after twenty years of wanting to hate me, you still care about me, even though I really don't deserve it, because I was an ass, and I fucked up.

"What if I said seeing you on Monday," Virgil began, tears dripping down his cheeks, "made me fall into this downward spiral because I realized how much I love you, and how badly I screwed up our friendship and any chance of being with a man I actually love?

"Because that's all true, and I've missed you." Virgil paused briefly. Softly, he said again, "I've missed you, Richie…"

Richie was quiet for a few minutes as he took in everything that Virgil had just confessed. There were hundreds of thoughts going through his mind at once. The thoughts skirting through Richie's mind ranged from wanting to forget the past and up and kiss Virgil to remembering that, just because Virgil admitted to loving him, didn't mean Richie could just up and trust him again. As a matter of fact, the last thing Richie could see being able to do again was trust Virgil, but that didn't stop him from wanting to; didn't stop him from wanting to try. Maybe there was something to seeing him again after all.

"I've missed you, too, Virgil," Richie began, his tone filled with honesty. "And… maybe… there was something to coming back here today…"

A glimmer of hope flashed in Virgil's chocolate eyes. "You mean…?"

"I'm not saying I want to date you, Virgil," said Richie in a firm tone, wanting to make sure Virgil really understood that. "I am saying, though… that maybe… we can… try and fix our friendship…" he said breathily.

As soon as the words left, Richie gently shut his eyes and reeled over what he had just said. Of all the crazy things Richie had done in his life, knowingly giving Virgil a second chance was perhaps the craziest. If there was one thing of which Richie was absolutely convinced… people didn't change.

Shaking his head slowly, Richie opened his eyes again to see the same hopeful glimmer in Virgil's eyes smiling across from him. He felt a surge of nausea in his gut when he realized the magnitude of what he had just promised. Biting his bottom lip, Richie clenched his eyes shut as he tried to banish the nausea.

"Virgil, please… please do not make me regret this decision," he said airily, his tone pleading.

The nausea Richie felt dissipated when he felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around his shoulders. Without thinking, Richie relaxed in embrace and wrapped his arms around the body hugging him. He heard a soft voice murmur "I promise I won't let you down" as the words created a gentle, warm stream of air against his ear.

Then, just as quickly as the arms wrapped around Richie, he felt them leave, and Richie opened his eyes to find Virgil sitting across from him, showing absolutely no indication of what just happened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I am so proud of this chapter. So. Fucking. Proud.

At first, I was a little hesitant to make Richie so accepting of giving Virgil a second chance, but Virgil being so open and honest with his feelings (which is obviously something he doesn't do), would have made it a little bit rude for Richie to be like: "No second chance for you." Thus, Richie gave Virgil a second chance, but he's still wary. I hope that's portrayed well.

Also, in case it's not ENTIRELY obvious... I tend to make chapters with a lot of angst really long (chapters 10 and 14 are both over 3,000 words, and now so is this one). I'm not entirely sure if I do it on purpose or not, but there's a lot to get out, so they end up being long.

WELL, ANYWAY. MOVING ON. I hope you guys liked this chapter! Please review! Tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't like!


	17. Chapter XVII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>After all of the presents had been put under the Christmas tree, Richie and Virgil climbed into Virgil's bed, both of them as far to their respective sides as could be managed. For the umpteenth time, Virgil apologized to Richie for having to sleep in his bed, not realizing that Chloé would have such a tantrum about Santa not coming if someone slept on the couch. As a result, for the umpteenth time, Richie informed Virgil that it was fine; it was only one night.<p>

Virgil yawned loudly, creating a domino effect to which Richie responded with an equally boisterous yawn. Virgil sighed contentedly as he turned to his side to look at Richie. He smiled to himself as he watched Richie teeter on the edge of consciousness. He was also smiling because, even though they weren't dating, and were hardly on good terms of friendship, it was nice to have Richie back. There was a certain excitement that boiled inside him at the realization that twenty years of misery had come to, for the most part, an end and he had Richie back.

"I'm glad you decided to stay the night, Richie. I'm sure Chloé is, too. She really seems to like you a lot. The way she freaked out because there are no presents for you was the sweetest thing; I almost wish I had it on camera or something. Hell, I wish I had a lot of her life on camera. Or at least, I wish Angelica did. There's so much of her life I haven't been there to see…" Virgil trailed off and sighed when he heard Richie yawn. He laughed nervously and said, "You probably don't want to hear me ramble about my daughter, though…"

Richie smiled and glanced at Virgil. "I don't mind, Virgil. Chloé is a sweet child. You're proud of your daughter; I totally understand that," said Richie as he yawned loudly. "But, maybe, we can talk about Chloé tomorrow? I'm pretty tired…"

Virgil grinned as a result of Richie's comment about his daughter. "Alright; we'll talk tomorrow," he said and went to lie on his back again.

"Mm, thank you," Richie mumbled. He drew in a deep breath as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He leaned his head against the headboard, blinking a couple times to eliminate some of the grogginess he felt. Just as he was about to lean over to fish his medication from his duffle bag, a realization hit him, and he cussed out loud. "Fuck."

Virgil raised his eyebrows and quickly pushed himself into a cross-legged sitting position on the king-sized bed. "What's wrong?" he asked with a frown.

Hitting his head against the headboard rhythmically, Richie said, "I forgot my sleeping pills." There was a momentary pause in which Richie continued to hit his head. Letting out a groan, he stopped and turned his head to face Virgil. He frowned as he said, "I can't sleep without them."

Virgil blinked, scrambling for something to say. "Um… you looked like you were about to fall asleep just now, though?"

Richie sighed. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "I can look tired, and feel tired, but my brain doesn't shut off long enough to let me sleep. That's why I have the sleeping pills; they force me into sleep."

"Nothing else helps?"

Richie shut his eyes and raised his eyebrows. Shaking his head slowly, he let out a huff through his nose and said, "No. Believe me. I've tried. Mike and I did everything we could think of to help me sleep; we tried warm milk, a hot bath, reading a book, boring television, massages, incenses, counting sheep… none of it worked. Hell, even sex doesn't help me sleep.

"Nothing except that medication helps me sleep," Richie groaned. He sighed loudly and added, "It's fine; I didn't feel like sleeping tonight, anyway."

"Mm," Virgil mumbled.

Virgil bit his lip gently as he scooted to the middle of the bed. Just as Richie was about to question his motives, Virgil pulled Richie into his arms. Gently, Virgil pulled the both of them down on the bed so they were lying next to one another. It wasn't until Richie found himself with his head lying on Virgil's chest that he thought to question what Virgil was doing.

"Just trust me, Richie," Virgil insisted. He paused as he thought about what he said. "Or, at least, try to. I know trusting me isn't exactly in the cards right now," he said and wrapped his arm around Richie's back. The other one went to gently stroke Richie's hair as he continued with his thought, "but I can't knowingly let you go without sleep."

"You can try," Richie mumbled against Virgil's chest, "but I doubt you'll get good results. Like I said, I absolutely can't sleep wi—"

Richie was promptly cut off by the sound of Virgil humming a gentle tune he almost recognized. Drawing in a deep breath, Richie forced himself to relax against Virgil's chest. The humming was certainly relaxing, and made him feel a lot calmer, but it was nowhere near enough to put him to sleep. The normal thoughts of a super -genius continue to blast through his mind as he enjoyed Virgil's humming.

Then the humming stopped. There was a brief moment of silence in which Virgil continued to stroke Richie's hair. Just as Richie was about to inform Virgil he wasn't asleep, the silence was replaced with the gentle sound of Virgil singing.

The first thing Richie noted was how soft and sensual his tone was, and how carefully he could carry a tune. With each word that Virgil sang, Richie felt his heart grow lighter and his eyes lids become heavier. The second Richie realized was how beautifully each word rang in his ears; a soft hum like a morning dove.

Richie drew in a deep breath and let it out gently as he realized, briefly, how comfortable he was. His whole body felt paralyzed from the firm yet gentle hold Virgil had on him. Blinking a couple times, Richie finally glanced up at Virgil. As Virgil continued to sing, he felt Richie shift and looked down at him with warm smile. Virgil pulled Richie closer which earned him a small, pleased moan from Richie.

Richie was scared. He was mortified because it was at that moment he realized just how much he trusted Virgil. The one thing Richie was positive was going to take Virgil months or years to acquire, he had managed to gain in one night, and it scared Richie that he could so openly and easily trust another person, especially someone who had proven the capability of hurting someone that had hurt him, and hurt him horribly. However, in an instance, it was like nothing Virgil had done in the past mattered, and the only thing that did was right here, right now.

The realization of his trust for Virgil freaked out Richie and he began whimpering softly, squirming against Virgil's chest. Richie wanted to scoot back to his side of the bed and pretend he didn't trust Virgil; he wasn't ready to trust someone, especially someone he trusted already.

The small freak out awarded Richie a soft hushing sound from Virgil who moved the hand stroking his hair to Richie's shoulders where he made soft, gentle circles. He continued to sing the soft song he'd been cycling through for close to ten minutes.

As soon as Richie calmed, he was briefly aware of his heavy eyelids falling shut. Within moments, Richie had fallen into a deep, peaceful slumber.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Think all this happened way too fast? Yeah, me either.

To put it simply, Richie is still hesitant to trust Virgil, and Virgil is doing everything he can to show Richie he's changed; to show him he can be trusted. Richie wants to trust him, and he ultimately does, so he lets Virgil continue to prove it, not wanting to succumb to those feelings quiet yet, because it takes a lot to trust a person; it takes a lot to build back up trust for someone you used to trust with your life. (Quite literally his life - the whole superhero thing.) So, even though Richie DOES trust Virgil, he still doesn't. That's going to be the angst of this story for awhile.

BEFORE I FORGET: I WANT TO THANK **Aintzane411** FOR ALL OF THE _AMAZING _HELP SHE HAS GIVEN ME THROUGHOUT THIS STORY. Seriously, she has helped me through so much writer's block and there's not enough words in the English language to adequately portray my gratitude. Thank you so, so much for all of your help. I seriously appreciate it more than you know.

Hope you all like this chapter! Sorry it's kind of short; it's more of a transition chapter, but it still serves purpose to the plot. (I would never post a chapter that doesn't contribute to the plot.) There will be a lot more to come in the next chapter!

We're getting to the end, guys!

Please review!


	18. Chapter XVIII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p><em>The door of the gas station swung open and in came Virgil, walking as if he had just become Batman himself. Richie watched as Virgil proudly marched to the couch and sat down. He began fishing through his backpack for his Static costume, ignoring the irritated glares he was receiving from Richie. When Virgil was halfway in costume, Richie finally broke the silence.<em>

"_Virgil, where the fuck have you been?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_What do you mean what do I mean? You've been gone for a week and all of a sudden you show up like nothing happened."_

"_Oh." Virgil paused and shoved his tongue in his cheek. Finally, he shrugged and said, "I got married."_

"_What the fu— You got married? To whom?"_

"_Angelica."_

"_Oh yeah, because I totally know who the _fuck _that is!" There was a pause, but before Virgil got a chance to say anything, Richie interjected with, "You got married and didn't think it important to tell me? Virgil Ovid Hawkins, we had sex!"_

_Virgil shrugged. "I'm sorry, Richie."_

* * *

><p>Richie gasped and shot up in bed, immediately becoming aware of the sweat and tears that covered his face. Breathing heavily, Richie glanced diagonally to his left to see Virgil fast asleep, clutching a pillow in his arms. He pulled his legs to his chest and hid his face in his knees, his breathing still heavy. His mind raced.<p>

_Oh, God. This was such a huge mistake. I shouldn't be here right now. I should have just gone home._

Richie groaned loudly and wrapped his arms tight around the back of his neck. His breathing picked up and he felt sweat beginning to roll down his back. He whimpered softly as the room began spinning, and he squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of making it stop. For a split second, before an intense fear of death set in, he became aware of how badly his body was trembling and how intensely he was crying.

Virgil stirred in his sleep, immediately becoming of aware of the violent sobbing coming from the other side of his bed. Shooting up in the bed, his eyes wide, Virgil scrambled toward Richie and placed a hand on his back. When Richie jerked away from it, Virgil bit his bottom lip and panicky asked, "Richie, what's wrong?"

When Richie didn't answer, Virgil bit his bottom lip again and placed his hand on Richie's back one more. To Virgil's delight, Richie didn't jerk away from it this time, so he gently began to rub circles on Richie's upper back, attempting to coax him down from the, what Virgil figured, panic attack.

Close to ten minutes later, the violent sobbing calmed and Richie ceased shaking. Too tired to support himself, Richie fell to the side into Virgil's arms. Gently, Virgil stroked Richie's hair and gently assured him it was going to be alright.

When Richie finally came to, and realized where he was, he jerked violently out of Virgil's arms and scrambled to his feet. "I—I'm sorry… I have to go," Richie chocked out. He picked up his duffle bag and hurried toward the door.

"Richie, wait!" Virgil called after him. "Where are you going? What happened? What's wrong?"

Stopping in his tracks, Richie looked down at the ground and drew in a shaky breath. With a soft sigh, he turned to face Virgil. Immediately, he felt his heart fall to his stomach when he saw the look of confusion and pain in Virgil's eyes, and it hit Richie that Virgil really had no idea what was going on.

"I can't do this," said Richie as his voice cracked.

Virgil's lips went slightly agape. He opened and closed his mouth for several moments until he finally figured out what to say. "Can't do what, Richie?"

"This," Richie said as he spread out his arms in front of him. "I can't do this. I'm not ready for this. I'm not… I'm not ready to trust you, Virgil.

"I'm sorry," Richie said softly.

Much to Richie's surprise, the pain in Virgil's eyes melted away and was replaced with warm sympathy. Smiling gently, Virgil climbed off the bed and walked over to Richie. Standing about two feet away, Virgil outstretched his arm and gently, cautiously placed his hand on Richie's shoulder.

"I have to go, Virgil. I can't be here."

Virgil nodded understandingly. "Well, at least let me give you a ride home," he said and dropped his hand to his side.

Richie considered the offer momentarily. It was pretty early and he really wasn't in much shape to be walking across town; not after that panic attack.

However, before he had a chance to answer, cries of glee directed the attention of both Richie and Virgil to the living room. They then became aware of footsteps running across the apartment until they saw Chloé standing in the doorway, her face bright and beaming.

"Daddy, Santa came, Santa came!" Chloé cried, jumping up and down, as she pointed toward the living room. "Can we open the presents? Can we, Daddy, can we open the presents! Please, Daddy?"

A grin crossed Virgil's features and walked up to Chloé, patting her head to calm her down. "Calm down, baby girl, we will open the presents. I just need to take Richie home first."

The original gleeful expression Chloé had was quickly replaced with a saddened puppy dog look. She looked up at Richie and said, "Why are you leaving, Richie? We haven't even opened presents yet."

Richie smiled softly, his stomach creating a light spasm from an airy laugh. "I'm sorry, Chloé. You should be spending today with your dad, anyway. You don't want me here."

"Yes, I do," Chloé said softly as she pouted. "Daddy won't mind if you spend Christmas with us. Maybe Santa even brought you presents."

Richie shook his head gently and said, "I don't think I have any presents this year. I didn't ask him for anything."

"You didn't ask Santa for presents?" Chloé asked wide eyed, the idea of not having presents on Christmas being a new concept for her. She knitted her eyebrows momentarily, but then the light immediately returned to her eyes as she said, "I'll share my presents with you."

"I don't—"

"Please?" Chloé begged with big brown eyes. "I really like you, Richie, and it's Christmas; you shouldn't be alone on Christmas."

"Chloé, honey, if Richie wants to go home, we have to let him," Virgil interjected as he gently squeezed Chloé's shoulder. "I'm sure we'll see him again," he informed, looking at Richie with a warm smile.

Chloé sighed despairingly. "Alright," she said and made her way out of the room.

Virgil frowned as he watched Chloé sulk back to the living room. Letting out a small sigh through his nose, he turned back to Richie and said, with a forced smile, "Come on; let's get you home."

Clearing his throat, Richie moved the duffle bag farther onto his shoulder as he followed Virgil out to the living room. As they made their way to the front door, Richie couldn't help but notice how sad Chloé looked. He stopped in his tracks, the sight of Chloé sitting on the floor with her legs to her chest breaking his heart. He bit his bottom lip, remembering the times he had begged his own father to stay home for Christmas; begged him not to go to work.

"Richie, are you coming?" Virgil asked, breaking Richie of his thoughts.

Richie blinked and turned his head to look at Virgil who was standing in the doorway. "Um…" he mumbled and turned back to Chloé. Clearing his throat, Richie set down his duffle bag beside the door and moved toward the living room. "I think I'll stay. Just for a little while," Richie said to both Chloé and Virgil.

Virgil smiled as he watched Chloé run to Richie, encompassing him in a tight embrace, and squeal about how excited she was Richie was going to stay. Chloé took Richie by the hand and maneuvered him toward the Christmas tree where she urged him to sit down beside her, and Virgil briefly wondered what it would be like for that to happen every Christmas. Even if Richie wasn't ready to trust Virgil again, at least Virgil could be warmed by the knowledge that Richie cared about the happiness of his daughter. In a way, it was just as good, if not better.

"Daddy, are you coming?" Chloé exclaimed, breaking Virgil from his thoughts. "It's time to open the presents!"

With a soft laugh, Virgil said, "Coming, baby girl," and shut the front door before making his way into the living room.

* * *

><p>"Well," Virgil said, looking intently under the tree, "I think that's all of them. We opened all of the presents, Chloé."<p>

"Hold on, I have one more," Chloé said as she ran out of the room.

Raising an eyebrow, Virgil laughed softly to himself as he got up off the floor with a soft groan. Disappearing briefly into the kitchen, he returned with a large trash bag and began picking up wrapping paper and opened boxes off the floor and stuffing it into the bag. Virgil had learned years ago if he didn't start picking up the wrapping paper now, he would never do it. There was something to being lazy on Christmas morning that always got the best of Virgil.

When the floor was halfway clean, Richie began helping by handing Virgil wrapping paper that was scattered around him. "You certainly got her a lot of stuff," Richie noted as he handed Virgil a handful of crumpled wrapping paper.

Virgil shrugged as he took the wrapping paper and stuffed it in the trash bag. "She's my daughter," he said simply. "Besides, I always get her a lot of presents. Since I only see her once a year, I want her to have a lot of stuff to remember Daddy."

Richie smiled and handed Virgil another handful of wrapping paper. "You're a really great dad. I don't think she's going to forget you."

After stuffing the trash in the bag, Virgil placed his fist against his hip and used his free hand to run his hand through his dreads. Letting out a small, airy laugh, Virgil said, "Thanks, Richie. I'm sure you're the only person who thinks that."

Richie shrugged. "I bet Chloé agrees."

Sighing, Virgil tossed the trash bag to the side. He lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged next to Richie. "Well, unfortunately, Chloé doesn't decide how much time I spend with her," he said and crossed his arms.

"What did Angelica say about me?" asked Virgil after a moment of silence.

Richie clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows briefly. Clearing his throat, Richie said, "Do you really want to know?"

Virgil shrugged. "I'd like to know what my ex-wife is saying about me."

Pressing his hand against his mouth, Richie gingerly pulled his hand down his chin, over the stubble on the bottom of his chin, to his chest where he gently scratched his collar bone. Sniffling, Richie watched Virgil watch him intently, waiting for a response. Deciding it was only fair that Virgil know what people were saying about him, Richie gave in and shared everything he could remember Angelica saying.

"She said you're a liar and shouldn't be trusted. She urged me not to waste my time with you because, one, there would be nothing to gain from going back to someone who broke my heart, and was so nonchalant about it. Two, being with you wouldn't show you how badly your actions hurt people. It would just be giving you what you want."

Richie sighed and closed his eyes, lulling his head back, when he saw pain developing in Virgil's eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued. He had already started; he had to get it all out now.

"She's really mad you got married to her just pretend you were straight, Virgil. Before she was mad because you she was married to you for fifteen years, and you never loved her like she loved you, but now she knows why, and she mad because you used her.

"You really hurt her, Virgil. It's not fair that you strung her along for fifteen years…" Richie trailed off his thoughts. After a moment, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. What he saw broke his heart.

Virgil was sitting across from Richie, his lower lip held firmly between his teeth. He was breathing heavily through his nose as his eyes darted from side to side. Richie could tell Virgil wanted to cry because his eyes were glistening something awful, and at that moment all Richie wanted to do was hug Virgil; wanted to tell him everything would be alright, but he honestly wasn't sure it would.

And part of him wanted Virgil to feel miserable; wanted him to feel the same emotional pain Richie had felt the night Virgil came back and nonchalantly shattered his heart and his entire world. Maybe then Virgil would really understand what he had done; would really understand whom he'd hurt.

Just as Virgil was prepared to speak, they heard Chloé come running back into the room holding a package wrapped in newspaper. Virgil did his best to wipe his eyes dry and put on a smile. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Chloé. Not on Christmas.

"Sorry it took me so long, Daddy. I had to wrap it," Chloé said and held out the present to her father. Beaming, she said, "I hope you like it. I made it myself."

Clearing his throat, Virgil accepted the present and said, "Thank you, Chloé," as he began to open it. When he got it open, his eyes widened a little bit at what he saw.

It was small, black and electronic. Its dimensions were were similar to that of a first generation iPod, but the only indication it was meant for music was an female adaptor meant for headphones. "What is it?"

"It's a music player, Daddy. I heard you say the first night I was heard that you wanted one," Chloé informed, beaming.

"Where did you get the money for this?"

"I didn't buy it; I made it!"

Virgil's eyes went even wider as he heard a snicker coming from Richie, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what Richie found funny. However, Virgil chose to ignore Richie and focused on the fact his daughter had made a complex piece of machinery.

"You made this?" he exclaimed, his tone filled with shock and awe.

Chloé grinned. "Well, no… Rachael made it. I just told her what I wanted it to do; that's what I was making when before we went to pick up Rachael the other day; I was making a sketch for it."

"It senses your mood and plays the appropriate song. It's programmed to a database of six million songs. At least, that's what Rachael said," Chloé explained.

"Six… mill—Rachael made this?" Virgil stammered, pointing to the mp3 player, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. His tone was filled with borderline disbelief. "H—how did Rachael make this, Chloé?"

"Oh, that's right; I never told you," Chloé said with a big grin. "Rachael has powers like me. Her powers are really cool."

At that moment, Richie, who had been in his own little world, besides laughing at Chloé's comment about making the mp3 player, looked up at the mention of someone having powers. He narrowed his eyes as he looked between Virgil and Chloé, realizing he should have known all along how Chloé knew who he was.

"What… um… what are her powers, Chloé?" Virgil asked, but something inside him was saying he already knew.

Virgil glanced at Richie who was intently staring at the mp3 player Virgil was holding in his right hand. When he noticed what Richie was looking at, Virgil handed him the music player, deciding he wanted to find out how it worked, and turned his attention back to Chloé.

"She's a super genius."

Chloé paused momentarily before asking, "Do you like your present, Daddy?"

Virgil grinned and pulled Chloé into a warm, protective hug. He glanced over at Richie who looked as if his brain were about to explode, though Virgil was unsure if Richie was baffled by the machine or if he was overthinking the fact there was another super genius in the city. If Virgil remembered Richie at all, it was probably both, but more so the presence of another super genius than the machine.

Virgil turned his attention back Chloé and smiled brightly. "I absolutely love it, Chloé. Thank you," he said as he kissed Chloé's cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Oh, come on, you didn't think they were going to live happily ever after that easily, did you? That would just be so boring! The last chapter was basically BEGGING Richie to freak out.

Also, I think it's amusing Rachael is a super genius. It'll give Richie something to geek out about later. Because, , Richie arguing with an eight year old girl about quantum physics or something would be absolutely hilarious.

I have no idea how I'm updating these chapters so fast... It's like, I got so many ideas, it's like my brain is on fire!

... I know, I know, stop using Richie's lines. XD

Yeah. I have nothing else to say. XD Please review! Hope you liked it! :D


	19. Chapter XIX

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"Oh, and don't be a bitch and bring her back at 11:59, Angelica!"<p>

Groaning loudly, Virgil turned and shoved the door shut with his foot. _She is going to be the death of me. _Clicking his tongue, Virgil meandered back into the living room where Richie remained seated on the floor, still examining the handiwork of the mp3 player. Lying on his stomach on the couch, Virgil turned his head so he could watch Richie wrack his brain over the small gadget.

"Virgil?" Richie questioned, glancing up at the person in question momentarily.

"What, Richie?"

"Do you have a screwdriver?"

Virgil blinked and furrowed his eyebrows. Richie had to be kidding; there was no way he was honestly asking Virgil for a screwdriver, and Richie definitely did not want to take apart his new mp3 player. On the other hand, it would be exactly like Richie to take new things apart to find out how they worked. Either way, the last thing Virgil was going to do was giving Richie a screwdriver.

"Yes, but I'm not giving it to you," said Virgil as he buried his face into the couch cushion.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at Virgil. If Virgil had been looking, he would have seen confusion and a puppy dog pout. "Well, why not?"

"Because you're not taking apart my Christmas present," Virgil mumbled.

Richie huffed and said, "I just want to know how it works."

Virgil rolled his eyes against the cushion. He turned his head to look at Richie again, snorting at the puppy dog pout gracing Richie's features. Virgil buried his face back in the cushion and laughed airily. Just because Richie was being adorable did not mean Virgil was going to cave and give him what he wanted.

"Richie, if you want to know how it works, ask Rachael."

"Why would I ask a little girl for help? I'm far smarter than any eight-year-old. If you would just let me take it apart, I could find out for myself," Richie said confidently.

"Richie, you're not taking it apart," Virgil mumbled exasperatedly. "I'm not running the risk of you breaking my Christmas present."

"I bet you would let Batman take it apart," Richie murmured under his breath.

Virgil rolled his eyes and lifted his head to look at Richie. He rolled his eyes again when he found Richie was still pouting. "Richie, seriously, why would Batman come to my apartment to take apart my mp3 player? I'm pretty sure he has better things to do."

Letting out a long sigh, Virgil pushed himself to his side so he was facing the room. With an airy laugh, Virgil said, "For a super genius, you don't always think very logically, do you?"

Richie shrugged and placed the mp3 player on the nearby coffee table. With a grunt, he lifted himself off the floor and shuffled to the couch. He pushed Virgil's feet off the couch and sat down at the opposite end. When Virgil reluctantly sat up, Richie answered his question.

"Well, I am still in love with you, so you tell me," Richie said with a shrug.

Virgil sighed and let his head droop. He became insanely intrigued with his fingernails as a variety of thoughts skipped through his mind, most of them memories of the night he told Richie he was married. There were so many things about that night he wished he could redo; if he could go back in time, for starters, he would have never gotten married; he would have been more accepting of himself and not married Angelica, and ultimately hurting a woman who never did anything to deserve it. He would have been more accepting of himself because then, maybe, he would have not destroyed his friendship.

Virgil looked up at Richie again to see the other man staring intently at him, and it suddenly hit Virgil how badly he wanted Richie to trust him; how desperately he needed Richie to trust him, because he desperately needed Richie. It was no coincidence Richie was sitting in his living room; if Richie really had wanted to leave, he would have, despite Chloé's pleads for him to stay. That obviously had to mean Richie wanted to be there; it had to mean Richie at least somewhat trusted him.

When Richie realized Virgil wasn't going to respond to him, he turned away and continued to examining the mp3 player. If Virgil wasn't going to let him take it apart, he was going to do his best to find out how it worked in other ways; he was going to find out how it worked, and it was not going to involve asking an eight-year-old girl for help.

The way Richie's glasses fell down his nose was an image Virgil remembered all-to-well; Richie always managed to nearly lose his glasses when he was intently working on something. Somehow, Virgil found it endearing, adorable. The way Richie furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose when nothing else mattered but what he was focusing on made Virgil do the same for Richie; nothing else was worth focusing on except him.

Virgil knew Richie didn't want to date him; he had made that perfectly clear the night before, and Virgil absolutely understood that. If he could just become friends with Richie again then he would be happy; if Richie could just trust him like he used to, he would be happy. Unfortunately, gaining Richie's trust seemed like it was going to be a tedious endeavor, but one that would ultimately, hopefully, end up being worth it.

Virgil drew in a soft, gentle breath and let his eyes flutter shut. One memory replayed through Virgil's mind over and over again as he sat with his eyes closed. Laying one hand on the bridge of his nose, and the other on his chest, right over his heart, Virgil reveled in the memory of every scent, sound, and touch from the night they made love. The image of Richie standing before him, shirtless and half out of his pants rapidly sped up Virgil's heartbeat and made his breathing shallow. Richie had looked so good in what was left of those blue jeans.

_I want you so bad, Richie. I love you so much. _The words echoed in his mind, but were immediately replaced with: _I do love you, Richie, but it was just sex._ How could Virgil have been so stupid? How could he have let Richie slip away? How could he have been so naïve? Of course Virgil loved Richie, and Virgil assumed anyone with two eyes could see that, considering how many years of others hating he had fallen into. Even Virgil knew he loved Richie, which was how he got himself into this situation in the first place; this situation where, instead of jumping Richie for being so gorgeous, he was internally kicking himself for not being able to.

Opening his eyes once again, he found Richie still intently, desperately, wanting to know how that mp3 player worked. It was obvious that it did work because Virgil had tested it, but finding out that it worked had only made Richie crazier; it worked and Richie desperately wanted to know how it worked; wanted to know what about it could read emotions. For a split second, Virgil even considered letting Richie take it apart.

At this point, Virgil found himself a little bit more than drunk on Richie's presence; the mix of emotions Virgil felt for Richie were driving him absolutely crazy. On the one hand, all Virgil wanted was to be Richie's friend; he desperately wanted to put the past behind them and have Richie trust him again so they could continue on as they were twenty years ago, before emotions ever played a factor in their relationship. On the other hand, Richie was the best buzz Virgil was ever going to find. His sheer presence was a better high than any cigarette he had ever smoked, and Virgil even considered quitting smoking if he could just have Richie. He would do anything to have Richie.

A pain stabbed Virgil in the chest as it became painfully clear how much Virgil really had missed Richie. Of course he had realized after seeing Richie the first time he loved him, and realized he had been suppressing whom he really was, and of course Virgil had been telling the truth when he told Richie the previous night he had missed him, but it wasn't until right now that he really understood the magnitude of his words; realized the intensity of what he felt.

Virgil was madly, head over heels, straight out of a corny romance movie, in love with Richie, and there was nothing he could do about it, and he ached for the chance to show Richie just how much he had changed. He ached for the chance to go back in time and fix his mistakes; to show Richie that no one else mattered but him. He would tell himself not to marry Angelica and to stay with Richie, because love ultimately trumpeted fear.

Virgil drew in a deep, shaky breath and bit down on his bottom lip. He shut his eyes at the first indication of tears welling up in them and leaned back against the couch. His head lulling forward, Virgil pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and made a soft moaning sound.

"Virgil, are you alright?" said Richie in a concerned tone.

Virgil could tell Richie was close because he was vaguely aware of Richie's warm breath against his cheek, and it was absolutely not helping.

Opening one of his eyes, Virgil was met by Richie who was no more than six inches from his face. He would have debated over why Richie was so close, but the fact that he was was internally driving him crazy, and he wanted, so very desperately, to close that gap; he wanted to press his lips against Richie's soft, pale, luscious, welcoming…

In one swift move, Virgil swung around and pressed Richie back against the couch, pressing his lips firmly against Richie's. One of his knees rested in between Richie's legs while the other leg leaned against the edge of the couch. His left hand held the back of Richie's neck while the other one pressed tenderly against Richie's right cheek. Just for a moment, Virgil was in an absolutely heart fluttering, head spinning state of ecstasy.

Then he realized Richie wasn't kissing him back.

Immediately, he pushed himself off Richie and scrambled backward to one of the seats across the living room. As he spilled into the seat, Virgil pressed his hands to his face and began to mumble incoherently until he was able to form proper pronunciations.

"Shit, Richie, I'm so sorry," Virgil said, scrambling out an apology. "I have no idea what came over me. I just… you were there and… the memories… and… I just want you to trust me, because I've miss you… and… and… I just love you so much."

Dropping his hands to his lap, Virgil focused his attention on Richie who was staring at him blankly. Virgil drew in a sharp breath, letting it out with a low, pleading moan. Squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in his lips, Virgil suddenly felt nauseas and he scrambled out of the chair, intending on making a beeline for the bathroom.

However, he promptly found himself being pulled back by the arm. Spinning around, Virgil found himself face-to-face with Richie. Virgil's breath hitched, his eyes were wide, and he bit his lip as he watched a series of incomprehensible emotions play across Richie's features.

Hesitation spilled from Richie's gaze as he muttered the words, "I love you, too," and Virgil found himself pressed against a wall, both of his hand holding the back of Richie's head while Richie's hands wrapped securely around Virgil's waste.

Their lips met once more, and Virgil swore he could feel his heart doing somersaults while butterflies assaulted his stomach and made him feel light-headed. Pulling Richie closer, their heartbeats met and Virgil withered, thankful that Richie was holding him against the wall, because his jelly legs would never have been able to hold up his weight. After a few short moments, their kiss became increasingly sloppy and a lot more desperate, and it was at that moment Richie pulled away from the kiss, but not from Virgil.

Resting his head against Virgil's chest, Richie reeled over a few thoughts before inhaling and exhaling quickly. He wanted to be with Virgil; he wanted to call Virgil his boyfriend. Richie wanted Virgil to be the one he settled down with and spent the rest of his life with. He wanted to call Virgil his. Did Richie fully trust Virgil? No, not yet, but that could be easily remedied; it would take work, but it was obvious Virgil was prepared for that.

Then there was Angelica. If Richie was going to date Virgil, then something had to be done about Angelica. Virgil had to apologize, and she had to accept it, because Richie was not going to get in the middle of that catfight. Amends would have to be made with Angelica, not just because Richie wanted it to happen, but also because Virgil would be a lot happier if he did. Virgil apologizing to Angelica would really be healthier for all of them.

Richie drew in a deep breath and let it out gently. "I want to be with you, Virgil," Richie said and felt himself being pulled closer to Virgil's body. He responded by tightening the hold he had on Virgil.

Gently, but firmly, Richie continued his previous thought. He didn't want to sound rude, but he wanted to make sure Virgil really, absolutely understood what was being said to him. "There's some stuff we need to seriously talk about first, though.

"Also, I need you to drive me back to my house."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I literally have nothing to say about this chapter. XD

Please review! I hope you enjoyed it!


	20. Chapter XX

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"Mom, it's getting late," Chloé whined, her arms full of bags from an all-day shopping spree at the mall. "When are we going back to Daddy's apartment?"<p>

"I just thought you would like to spend Christmas with me for a change," Angelica countered. Glancing down at Chloé, she noticed her daughter struggling with her bags, so she grabbed a couple to lighten Chloé's load. "Aren't you have fun with me, sweetie?"

"Of course I'm having fun with you, Mom," Chloé said as she rearranged the remainder of the bags, pushing several of them up her shoulder. "I just don't get to see Daddy a lot," she pointed out with a shrug, knowing full her mother didn't much care if she ever saw her father; Chloé heard a lot when her mother thought she wasn't listening. After a beat, she added: "Besides, Daddy's making his fried chicken for dinner like he always does."

Angelica halted in her tracks. When Chloé realized her mother had stopped, she halted and turned around. Chloé was only about eight inches shorter than her mother, so Chloé was practically face to face as she stood in front of her mother. "Mom, are you okay?"

"I… I'm fine…" Angelica muttered, already lost in memories. She tightly furrowed her eyebrows as the vivid memory flooded her thoughts.

* * *

><p>"<em>Virgil," Angelica howled, running across the apartment in search of her husband.<em>

_Standing toward the only shut door in the only hallway of the small apartment, Angelica whimpered through her tears: "Virgil! Virgil, where… where are you?" _

_From the master bedroom came Virgil, concern riddling his features, tightening his facial muscles. As soon as Virgil completely presented himself, Angelica flung herself into her husband's arms, sobbing loudly and uncontrollably._

"_Angelica, honey, what's wrong?" Virgil asked softly, stroking his wife's long, black, and silky hair. "Why are you crying?"_

"_I-it—it's m-m-my—it's my Daddy!" Angelica sobbed against Virgil's shirt, dampening it with her tears._

_Virgil's eyebrows furrowed as he tightened the protective hold he had on Angelica. "What about Steve, honey?" he questioned as the pitch of his voice growing higher from concern. "What happened to him?"_

_There were several minutes where the only sound was Angelica's loud sobbing. Virgil held her, patiently stroking her hair in an effort to be soothing. For a time, he even hummed gently._

_When nothing was said after about ten minutes, Virgil spoke again. "Angelica, honey, what happened? Please tell me what's wrong?"_

_Angelica's breathing swallowed and her sobs calmed. After a couple minutes of opening and closing her mouth similarly to a fish, she finally mustered up the ability to speak. The few words she managed to say were barely audible. "He was in a car crash," she said before breaking into a fit of violent sobbing once more._

* * *

><p><em>Three months after the death of Angelica's father was the first Christmas she would spend without her parents around.<em>

_The smell of crisp, buttery, freshly deep fried batter permeated throughout the newly purchased, box riddled, Hawkins' household. Drawn to the aroma, Angelica found herself absently meandering to the kitchen where she stumbled upon Virgil standing in front of the counter, presumably cooking._

"_What are you making?" Angelica asked, slowly approaching Virgil._

_Without a word, Virgil grabbed a freshly fried chicken leg off a plate covered in paper towels. He turned only long enough to hand the chicken leg to Angelica._

_Angelica's eyebrows shot up with curiosity as she warily eyed the offering pinched firmly between her pointer finger and thumb. Ready to ask questions, she opened her mouth only to be interrupted by the loud rumbling of her stomach. Rolling her eyes internally, she cleared her throat and took a bite of the warm fried chicken._

_Then, all of a sudden, she wasn't able to chew fast enough, so Angelica swallowed the bite whole and winced as it went down. "Virgil!" she exclaimed excitedly. "This is… this is… How did you…? Where did you…?" _

_Laughing gently, Virgil turned toward Angelica. He leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel he had wrapped around his belt. "I got the recipe from your uncle," Virgil said. "I said I wanted to make it for you sense this was going to be your first Christmas without your parents."_

"_Oh, Virgil," Angelica cried with glee, jumping up and wrapping her hands around Virgil's neck and her legs around his waist. As Virgil wrapped his arms under Angelica's thighs, she said, "Thank you so much," and tightened the hug._

_His smile beaming, Virgil said, "Of course, honey," warmly. Gently, he kissed Angelica, deepening it only when Angelica did first._

* * *

><p>"Mom, are you sure you're okay?" Chloé said, attempting for the fifth time to break her mother of her trance. "You look like you're about to cry," she pointed out.<p>

"Wha-what?" Angelica muttered, confused. Shaking her head of her thoughts, she blinked a couple of times, making a surveillance of her surroundings, until she realized again where she was.

"Oh," Angelica said softly as she glanced down at Chloé. Smiling, she assured Chloé she was fine while patting her head. Clearing her throat, she added, "I was just thinking about some stuff."

"What were you thinking about?" Chloé asked as her and her mother began walking again.

"Just… thinking about your father," Angelica said; her tone was soft and indistinguishable of any particular emotion. After a beat, Angelica said, "Come on; let's get you back to your dad's apartment."

Chloé's eyes growing wide and her mouth agape from a gasp, she cried, "Yay! Thanks, Mommy!" with excitement, as she ran toward the same doors they had used several hours prior. Angelica followed not too far behind.

* * *

><p>Virgil muttered as he walked into what was supposed to be Richie's dining room. Taken aback, he halted in his tracks as he looked around the room. Mounted on the walls with push pins and scattered all over several tables were a mixture of personal pictures and blue prints. Ambling, Virgil examined the room around him, taking in the exorbitant amount of pictures, most of which were of Richie and some man with brown hair and brown eyes. The rest were of Richie and his parents, and occasionally of Aria at various stages of her life.<p>

"Who is this?" Virgil asked, gently laying his pointer finger on one of the pictures of Richie and the unknown man. He turned slightly and watched as Richie entered the room behind him.

"Whom?" Richie asked, narrowing the gap between him and Virgil. Glancing down, Richie caught a glimpse of the person Virgil was referring to. "Oh," he muttered. "That's Mike, my ex-boyfriend."

"Oh," Virgil said softly, nodding gently.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Virgil stumbled out the words: "What… um… what was he like?"

"Well, he was a really great guy before he cheated on me," Richie replied coldly. Virgil noticeably flinched at the way the words were spoken, but Richie ignored it. They were both aware Virgil had cheated; there was no reason to comment about it further.

Richie sighed, picking up the picture Virgil had been pointing to. "He was funny," he began. "He always knew how to make me laugh. He said I worked too much; spent too much time thinking, and not enough time just relaxing." Sighing, Richie set down the photo and turned his attention to Virgil. "I wish I could have," he said with a shrug. "I wish I could have just stopped thinking; I wish I could just stop thinking." Snorting, Richie rolled his eyes as he said, "My brain really is on fire," which made Virgil laugh softly, too.

Meandering to a nearby desk, Richie picked up another photo of himself and Mike. Holding it between his pointer finger and middle finger, he showed it to Virgil. "This is when we went to Disney for our tenth anniversary," he informed. Chuckling dryly, Richie said, "I spent the entire trip working." Shrugging with a soft smile, Richie set down the photo and said, "It seriously pissed him off."

Virgil laughed. "That sounds like you," he jabbed. Crossing his arms, Virgil then asked, "What sort of things were you working on?"

"Inventions, mostly," Richie said and laughed lightly. "There's a pile of them over there," he said, gesturing toward a table.

Nodding, Virgil moseyed across the dining room to a table covered with nothing but blueprints. He looked through the blueprints until one particularly caught his eye. Picking it up, he turned toward Richie. "What was this?"

Turning around and perching his glasses further up his nose, Richie took the blueprint from Virgil and examined it. Clicking his tongue as his glasses fell down his nose again, he looked up at Virgil and said, "I was trying to make a satellite that could harbor television stations from everywhere in the world."

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows and, biting his lip gently, looked behind his back to the living room. Easing his features, he looked back at Richie and pointed out: "You don't have a TV."

"I know. That's why I quit working on it," Richie said. "The one I had belonged to Mike. I haven't gotten around to buying another one. I only moved here at the beginning of the school year, so teaching is sort of taking up my time."

Virgil nodded. He made his way down the table of blueprints when a huge, red machine caught his attention. Looking to Richie, he asked, "Why do you have a generator?"

"Um…" Richie said and puffed his cheeks. Popping his lips, he scratched the side of his head and said, "Um… because in the months I've been here, I've blown out my electricity fifty-seven times."

"You blew out your electricity fifty-seven times?" Virgil exclaimed, his eyes practically bugging. "What were you doing, you mad scientist?"

Richie's expression lit up as he laughed, his lips curling into a warm smile and his nose scrunching. He covered his face with his hand as he said, "I was trying to make sure my inventions worked," he said sheepishly. "I'd plug them in and it'd blow out my electricity. I mean, back in high school, anything I made required technopathy from Backpack or… I got my electricity from… you. Unfortunately, the house short-circuits a lot faster than you," Rihie joked.

Letting out a long, soft sigh, Virgil glanced down at the ground, playing with a small bolt of electricity he formed between his thumb and finger. Biting his lip, he cut off the electricity and looked back up at Richie who had begun organizing the blueprints. Virgil sighed again.

Meandering to a table with nothing but scattered pictures, Virgil gently sifted through them, examining each picture, and noting that most of them were of Richie and Mike. Virgil sighed, not sure if he should feel jealous or not.

Then a picture of Richie's mother caught Virgil's eye. He knitted his eyebrows as he picked it up to get a better look. Virgil knew the picture had been taken in Richie's house because he recognized the staircase in the background. She looked so much different than Virgil remembered. She was about the same age, but she looked so much older at the same time. In the picture, Maggie was in the living room, sitting in a reclined recliner. Her face was pale and her hair was gone. The color in her eyes had seemingly melted away, leaving nothing but ashen, lifeless ones behind. The smile on her face was noticeably forced for the camera, and perhaps for the feelings of the photographer.

Then it Virgil him what was going on in the picture.

Virgil glanced down at the ground and became faintly aware of footsteps approaching him, stopping in front of him. Biting his lip, he looked up at Richie who seemed emotionless. Drawing in a deep breath, Virgil closed the gap between Richie and himself and wrapped Richie in a tight, protective hug, which Richie promptly returned with the same intensity. He laid his chin on Virgil's shoulder, sigh contentedly when Virgil did the same to him.

Without being asked, Richie began explaining what he assumed Virgil wanted to know. "She's been dead for seventeen years," he said softly, mumbled against Virgil's shoulder. "She died of—" Richie cut off, becoming instantly choked up by what he was attempting to explain. In response, Virgil began making soft circles on Richie's back which, after a couple minutes of comfortable silence, prompted Richie to continue. "She died of Leukemia… two days before my graduation…"

Gasping softly, Virgil pulled Richie into his arms tighter. "I didn't… I didn't know she had…"

"Two days before I got my Ph.D.," Richie interrupted. Gently, he added, "You wouldn't have known…"

"I'm so sorry, Richie," Virgil murmured. Gently, Virgil pushed Richie far enough way to see his face and said, "I understand."

"I know," Richie replied with a hiccup of emotion. Taking in a deep, calming breath, Richie finally stepped away from Virgil, creating a measurable distance between them. "Thanks, Virgil," he said and turned away toward the slew of scattered pictures, intending on organizing them.

As Richie did that, Virgil began looking through the dining room more closely; taking in every picture and blueprint he came across. Just when he thought he had seen everything the dining room had to offer, Virgil's attention was caught by a simple brown, wooden, five inch by eight inch picture frame that harbored a picture that made Virgil grin.

Picking up the picture frame, he stared at it for a couple moments before looking around the room for another picture frame. Knitting his eyebrows, he looked back at the picture and smiled wider, having not seen another picture frame in the entire room.

The picture was of Virgil when he was eighteen years old. He was wearing a pair of long, black slacks and a light and dark purple and white vertical stripped, silk shirt. He was standing with his shoulders against a white wall, and his right foot pressed against the wall. His left hand was in the pocket of his slacks and his right hand was intertwined with his dreads while he looked down at the ground, smiling.

Virgil laughed airily. He was beaming as he reached his hand to his face to wipe a tear from his eye. Turning around, he found Richie still organizing the pictures. "You kept this?"

Turning his head abruptly, Richie's blank expression turned into a smile as he walked to Virgil again. Richie took the picture from Virgil and stared at it. Setting it back down on the table, Richie turned to Virgil and said, "Well, of course I kept it."

"Why, though? Why, after all of these years, would you keep that?"

Richie shrugged. "The same reason you still have the picture of us in your bedroom," he said, pausing to look at the picture once more. "I still love you."

Virgil drew in a deep, sharp breath and cleared his throat. Reaching out for Richie's wrists, he wrapped his hands around them as Richie looked up at Virgil. There shared a couple moments of silence, both smiling at one another like bashful schoolgirls. Finally, Richie's face became too red and he looked down at the ground, leaving Virgil staring at the top of Richie's head.

"Richie," Virgil said, lifting Richie's head with his pointer, "please, will you be my boyfriend? You said you wanted to be with me, so... please?"

Richie sighed, taking in the desperation in Virgil's eyes. Smiling sympathetically, he pulled his wrists out of Virgil's grasp and said, "I do want to, Virgil; I really do want to be your boyfriend," he said, "but not yet. I… I need you to apologize to Angelica first, Virgil."

Virgil blinked, his eyebrows furrowing from obvious confusion. "Why?"

"Remember what I said to you this morning? All that stuff you wanted to know about what Angelica was saying about you?" Richie asked and waited for a response from Virgil. "That's why you need to apologize," he said, "Does that make sense, Virgil?" Richie asked gently.

Virgil nodded, inhaling and exhaling quickly. He lulled his head forward slightly as his mind reeled. Knitting his eyebrows, Virgil considered what he might say to Angelica, and what she might say in return. Remembering the "conversation" they had had on Christmas Eve, the thought of talking to Angelica about anything at all instantly became stressful.

Groaning, Virgil lifted his head again and asked, "Do you have a patio?"

Richie nodded and gestured his head toward the living room. Once Virgil left the dining room, Richie sighed. When he heard the patio door close, Richie clicked his tongue and waggled his eyebrows briefly.

_I'm going to need him to stop doing that, too. _He thought, falling into a seat, and pulled Aria, who had been sleeping under the table, into his lap.

Richie continued working on a voice-activated stereo system as he waited for Virgil to come back into the house. Sure, voice-activated stereos were already a real thing, but Richie refused to purchase what he could easily make, and in the last twenty years, he had made a lot of household items. Making things for combat seemed a little pointless, he figured, considering he hadn't been a superhero for twenty years.

As he worked, a thought crossed his mind.

_I really do want to go out with you, Virgil. There's just so much that needs to be worked out first; so much that needs to be made right before I can say yes, but I do want to say yes. It hurts and scares me just how badly I want to say yes; just how much I still need you and love you, even after all you did; even after all these years._

Richie sighed and leaned back into his seat, no longer interested in the blueprint, but in his thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: This chapter was a lot of background information. Also, if you can figure out why Angelica is taking Chloé back to Virgil's after that flashback, props to you. If you can't, don't worry, I'll explain it later. It will be known. XD

Did you like this chapter? Was it too jumpy? (I fear it may have been a little jumpy, but I promise it will tie in together.) Please review and let me know what you thought! Thank you for reading!

Also, just for the record, I'm not trying to pull the whole "black people like fried chicken" thing. I was literally eating fried chicken while I wrote this. So... yeah... *sniffs*


	21. Chapter XXI

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>"You know, Virgil, I really think you should quit smoking," Richie certified, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "I know it seems like the easiest solution for your stress, but I promise it's not. It just makes kissing you feel like kissing an ashtray."<p>

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes—his smoking was a conversation he had had way too many times. "I've tried quitting already. I've tried seven times. It always ends in something triggering my stress and I go back to it." Shrugging, Virgil glanced at Richie only long enough to note the look of absolute understanding and acceptance on Richie's gentle features. Smiling softly, Virgil turned his attention back to the road.

"Well, what did you try?" Richie asked gently.

Virgil sighed and bit the side of his lower lip. "Um…" he mumbled and sighed again. After a couple minutes, Virgil finally answered Richie's question. "The first time I tried quitting, I tried to cut back gradually." Pausing, Virgil gave an airy laugh and then added: "I found out later that doesn't work.

"I've tried things like nicotine gum and the patch. I just… they didn't work, because I'm also addicted to the actual act," Virgil said with emphasis, "of smoking. I'm not just addicted to nicotine—I'm addicted to the smoke being in my lungs." Sighing, Virgil glanced down momentarily and shrugged. "That's probably weird, isn't it?"

Richie shook his head gently and placed a hand on Virgil's back. "That's not weird at all. We all like what we like, Virgil," he said understandingly.

"Maybe you could just try going cold turkey," Richie offered. "How much money do you spend on cigarettes a month?"

"Normally five or ten dollars," Virgil said. Clearing his throat, he then said, "I don't know if I could go cold turkey, Richie. I… I like smoking," he said, wincing at the words, realizing how bad it probably sounded to Richie.

Richie just nodded understandingly. "I understand," he said and rubbed small, gentle circles on Virgil's back. "You do know smoking decreases your life expectancy, right?" Richie said gently.

"Of course I know that. I know all that stuff about smoking, Richie," Virgil said and sighed. "I know how bad it is for you."

Richie smiled and nodded, pulling his hand back to his lap. Crossing his legs and his arms, Richie glanced at Virgil and said, "Well, don't you want to be around to see your daughter graduate high school? Graduate college? Get married?

"Not to mention, I don't really plan to go anywhere anytime soon, so I'd like it if you stuck around awhile," Richie said ending with a supportive pat on Virgil's back. He hadn't been attempting to guilt trip Virgil, but rather to help him put things in perspective.

Just as Virgil pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, his entire body became riddled with goose bumps. Finding a parking spot and shutting off the car, Virgil leaned back into his seat and covered his eyes with the back of his hands. Rubbing his eyes, he cleared his throat and let his hands fall to his lap. Virgil had always known smoking could decrease his life expectancy, but he had never really taken into consideration he may not be able to be around for his daughter. The last thing he wanted to do was not be around to walk his daughter down the aisle. Not see her make big accomplishments.

Biting his upper lip, Virgil pressed his hand to his forehead and looked at Richie, tears beginning to well in his eyes. He would have tried to hide them, but Richie had seen him cry before, so any attempt seemed futile at best.

"I…" Virgil began, trailing off when he realized the words weren't going to come as easily as he hoped.

"I'll help you, Virgil," Richie assured. Wiping the tears from Virgil's face with the back of his pointer finger, Richie smiled and said, "You don't have to do it alone," he said softly and pulled his hand back into his lap.

There were a few minutes of silence. Then, as Virgil took off his seatbelt, he turned to Richie and challenged, "Why do you want to help me?"

Richie shrugged and smiled. His thoughts retreated to the previous night; the memories of Virgil's angelic singing, and the way it had put him to sleep, helping him sleep in a way nothing else had. It was the absolute best night of sleep Richie had ever had, and a large part of him wanted Virgil to stick around long enough to do that every night for the rest of his life. Richie wanted to help Virgil because he loved him, and the thought of him dying young absolutely tore apart his heart and made him nauseous.

_How much do I really not trust Virgil? _ Richie heard himself thinking. Exhaling gently, he shook the thoughts from his mind and answered Virgil.

"You helped me fall asleep last night. The least I could do is return the favor and help you stop smoking."

Virgil smiled and nodded. Finally turning away from Richie, he looked down at his hands and fiddled with his thumbnail, a few thoughts skirting through his mind. The most prominent thought being that, maybe, the idea of talking to Angelica wasn't as stressful as Virgil had made it out to be an hour earlier. He was still convinced it wasn't going to turn out well, but if Richie wanted him to apologize, he would give it a try.

And, maybe, he would get to see his daughter more, but it didn't take long for Virgil to realize how unlikely that was, and he banished the thought from his mind.

Then another thought came to Virgil's mind that made him grin. Turning back to Richie, practically beaming, he said, "So… this kissing me thing…" Virgil said as he pointed at himself, "…will that be a frequent occurrence, or… What should I be expecting here?"

Richie laughed and rolled his eyes, burying his face in his hands as his face turned bright red. "Will you just get out of the car so we can go shopping?" he mumbled through his hands, the embarrassment he felt permeating in his voice. And he became vaguely aware of Virgil laughing as the car door opened.

Even twenty years of pain, tears, anger, and betrayal would never be powerful enough to come between a friendship like Virgil and Richie's. It was a realization of which they were both becoming exceptionally aware.

* * *

><p>"So, what all are you after?" Richie asked after Virgil grabbed a grocery cart. After a few feet of arrhythmic walking, their steps finally harmonized and they were walking side-by-side, their strides similar. "This is for dinner tonight, right?"<p>

Virgil nodded. "That, and there's some stuff I need get for Chloé. I always send her home with stuff like Nutella and pretzels." Halting in front of a shelf full of cans, Virgil glanced over the small selection of caramelized condensed milk. Grabbing one, he tossed it in the cart and continued on through the store.

"You didn't answer my question," Richie said as Virgil stopped again. "What are you after? What are you making for dinner?"

Glancing at Richie, he tossed the contents in his hands into the cart and said, "Fried chicken." He then turned away and continued a couple feet down the aisle where he knocked a few cans of green beans into his cart without stopping. It was obviously something he had done before.

Before Richie had the chance to say anything, the sound of his name being called made him come to a halt. Virgil, too, turned around to find out who was calling after Richie.

It was Charlotte. "Hi, Professor Foley!" she called out to him, making speedy work of closing the gap between them. When she was no more than six inches away from Richie, she said, "Fancy seeing you here."

Richie smiled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. "Hi, Charlotte," he said politely. "I didn't know you worked here."

Charlotte shrugged. "Eh, it pays for my education," she said with a laugh. "I'm only working here until I graduate. Or until I find an internship." Rolling her eyes, she added: "I'm almost afraid I'll never find an internship, though."

"Have you been working with your adviser?"

Shrugging again, Charlotte shifted awkwardly on her heels and said, "My adviser is sort of… spacey." Rolling her eyes, she added: "I'm even really sure how she got the job, honestly; she has no idea what's she's doing. I've been to her office a dozen and a half times and she insists," she said with emphasis, "there are no internships to be had in all fields of physics."

Richie laughed and rolled his eyes. "Somehow, I highly doubt that's true; especially for someone with a grade point average as solid as yours."

Charlotte shrugged. "Eh, I'll find one," she said, smiling knowingly. "For now, this is a fine job."

Standing behind Richie, Virgil loudly cleared his throat causing Richie to jump and jerk his attention to Virgil. When Virgil was positive he had Richie's attention, he said, "So… are you going introduce me?"

Richie rolled his eyes. Turning his attention to Charlotte, he said, "Charlotte, this is Virgil. Virgil, this one of my students at Dakota University: Charlotte."

"Nice to meet you, Virgil," Charlotte said stretching out her hand.

Virgil nodded his response and shook Charlotte's hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Charlotte."

"How do you know Professor Foley?" Charlotte asked politely, laying her hand back down at her side.

"Oh," Virgil said, looking around, as if the answer to the question could be found somewhere in the room. "Um… we're… um…" he stammered, looking for the proper term to describe what they were. They certainly weren't boyfriends—much to Virgil's dismay—and Virgil wasn't sure if Richie was ready to really be friends with him. And they most certainly weren't enemies. What were they?

"Charlotte," Richie interrupted, "Virgil is my best friend," he said, fully aware of the shocked look he was receiving from Virgil, even if Richie wasn't looking at him.

"Oh!" Charlotte exclaimed. "I remember you," she said to Virgil. "You're the man in the picture on Professor Foley's desk," she said and turned to Richie. "The one taken after you graduated college. That's Virgil in the picture, right?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah, that was him," he said, pointing his thumb at Virgil.

With a raised eyebrow, Charlotte said, "I thought you said you weren't friends anymore," confusion ringing in her tone.

"I did," Richie said with a nod. "We… um… ran into each other on Monday, I think it was, and we've been catching up," he said with a smile.

Charlotte returned the smile. "Well, you seem a lot happier," she pointed out. "You usually seem so down in the dumps," she said and crossed her arms. Glancing down at her watch, she sighed when she realized her break was almost over.

Looking back up at Richie, she said, "Well, I'm glad you found one another again, because you seem a lot happier," she reiterated. "Maybe now being in your class will be as fun as I know it could be."

Richie knitted his eyebrows, narrowed his eyes, and cocked his head slightly to the right. "What do you mean? I thought… I thought I made my class fun."

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong, your class is really fun; everybody who takes it enjoys it and learns a lot," Charlotte said, nodding as she spoke to get her point across. "It's just… most of the time… you seemed really miserable..." She paused, twisting his lips as she thought for a minute. "You seem happier now.

"Alright, well, my break is over. I need to get back to work, but it was nice seeing you, and I'll see you in class on the fourth," Charlotte said to Richie, smiling. Turning to Virgil, she said, "Nice to meet you, Virgil."

Virgil smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you, too, Charlotte."

Once Charlotte was gone, Virgil turned back to the shelf, looking for a box of breading. He had no idea when Angelica was going to bring Chloé back to his apartment, so he wanted to make quick work of getting out of the store.

Richie, on the other hand, stood paralyzed as he watched Virgil stand in front of the shelf with his hands on his hips. Closing his eyes, Richie sighed as his mind whirled. Was he really that much happier being with Virgil that other people recognized it? He supposed it made sense, considering how desperately he wanted to be Virgil's boyfriend.

_Why don't I just do it? Just get it over with and tell Virgil you'll go out with him. Unrequited love never got anyone anywhere, anyway, and obviously he wants to go out with me. I should just stop wanting so much from him; I should just say forget it about trusting him more, because obviously I already do, so I'm not sure who I'm kidding, and obviously Virgil is willing to take this slow._

He still needed Virgil to talk to Angelica. That was the one thing he wasn't going to let up on; the one thing that absolutely needed to happen. He would even work with Virgil's smoking while they dated, because he knew that one was going to take a while.

Sighing, Richie banished the thoughts from his head altogether. In a grocery store was not the apt time to be worrying about something like whether or not he should go out with his best friend. Especially when he was in the grocery store with said best friend, and said best friend probably wasn't comfortable being publically open about his sexuality, anyway, which would explain the fact that Virgil hadn't commented about Charlotte telling Richie he seemed happier with him around.

_Think about something else, damn it, _Richie commanded himself.

Racing after Virgil who had begun go toward another aisle, Richie said, "So, Virgil, why do you have fried chicken for Christmas?" while standing alongside Virgil. "Don't most people just have ham?"

With all the seriousness in the world, Virgil glanced at Richie and said, "It's because I'm black," while nodding.

For several moments, Virgil continued pushing the cart, the same serious look on his face. During that time, Richie just stared at Virgil, standing a step and a half behind his best friend. Richie's expression remained a mixture between surprise and utter amusement, and he remained unsure if he should take Virgil seriously or not.

Coming to a sudden halt, Virgil turned to face Richie, the same serious look on his face. Then, gradually, a smile separated Virgil's lips into a toothy grin, causing his nose to wrinkle and his eyes to twinkle.

"Richie, I totally was kidding," Virgil he said, covering his mouth with his right hand as he broke into fits of laughter. Through his hands, he said, while laughing, "Your expre—your expression was fun—n—ny though."

Covering his eyes with his hands, Richie's face went strawberry red as he, too, burst into a fit of laughter. "I—I really thought you were… serious."

"Tha—that's… that's why it's funny…"

Virgil began laughing so hard that his voice squeaked which only made him laugh harder. Clutching his stomach, Virgil bent his knees and bent over, attempting to grab the cart for support. When the cart pushed forward, Virgil feel to his knees, continuing to laugh. On his knees, Virgil clutched is stomach firmer and squeezed his eyes shut when his head began swimming.

"Do you need help up?" Richie asked, still laughing, but not nearly as much as Virgil. "Are you going to be okay? Was it really that funny?"

"Ye—yes to all thr—three," Virgil said, pinching his forehead between his pointer fingers.

Virgil had begun to try calming himself down when he noticed Richie holding out a hand to him. Clearing his throat, and breathing heavily, he grasped Richie's hand and pulled himself up, all while still having spurts of giggle fits, mostly using Richie as support from falling over again that to actually stand up.

When he was stable, he took in a few deep, purifying breaths and eventually sighed contentedly when he had taken control of his laughter. He allowed himself to look at Richie, whose face had turned bright read. Almost at the same moment, the two realized that they were still holding hands and abruptly let go. They took a large step away from one another, not knowing what to do, and Virgil looked around the isle briefly, making sure no one had seen the two of them holding hands.

For a time, they avoided eye contact, embarrassment rising in their cheeks, but for entirely different reasons. Richie's embarrassment was simply due to the fact it had happened, but Virgil's was undeviatingly related to the fact he wasn't ready to be publically out about his sexuality. For the most part he had come to terms with it, but three days was far from enough time to be that comfortable with it.

"Um… Thank you for the help up," Virgil finally said and flashed a warm smile to Richie, who returned the smile with the same warmth.

Grasping the handle of the grocery cart, they continued through the grocery store, in search of ingredients to make Christmas dinner. For a time, neither of them spoke—being still too embarrassed from the occurrence of holding hands, but they periodically shared glances of amusement and, every so often, Virgil would snort and end up suppressing a laugh that would make Richie grin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Alright, let's just be perfectly honest here, guys. This is, by far and large, the absolute best chapter of this story. There are so many amazing Virgil/Richie feels in this chapter that it makes me squea with love. I just want them to get together as bad as you all. TRUST ME I DO. But Richie is stubborn as a fucking mule, guys! STUBBORN. AS. A. MULE. He won't budge until Virgil apologizes to Angelica! I've tried to make him change his mind, but he won't! So, let me just say... patience is a virtue here. XD

You like how I brought Charlotte back and what I used her for? I mean, obviously Virgil isn't going to notice a change in Richie's mood, because he only sees how Richie is when he's around Virgil. And that's happy (well, most of the time, but you get the idea). With Charlotte coming in and being like "you look happier," Virgil now has something to compare to. Compare what, exactly? I dunno. Stuff, I guess.

AND I'M SORRY BUT THE JOKE ABOUT FRIED WAS FUNNY. IT WAS FUNNY, DAMN IT. And it is TOTALLY something Virgil would say! Perhaps the most in character part of this entire story, eh? XD In an effort to avoid plagiarism, I want to say thanks to Aintzane411 for helping me perfect that part and making me more relevant to the story line. You're the best. Srsly.

Sorry about two long chapters in a row? (Who am I kidding, you all don't mind. XD) Oh, and, fuck yeah. My chapters have a scroll bar now, guys! (XD I have no idea why I'm excited about this... but I am...)

Anyway. I'm going to end this ridiculously long author's note! I hope you liked this chapter! Please review!


	22. Chapter XXII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

* * *

><p>Sitting down on the couch, Richie let out a low groan as he slipped out of his trench coat. Folding it lightly, he draped it over the back of the couch. Before lying back, he kicked out of his shoes. Sighing contentedly, Richie rolled to his side so he was facing the back of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. He bent his legs slightly, finding Virgil's couch a bit too short to lay on fully outstretched.<p>

Groaning again, Richie mumbled, "I am so tired," and his eyes fluttered shut. His breathing became shallow as he teetered on the edge of consciousness and blissful sleep, lulled by the gentle clicking of Virgil's shoes against the linoleum in the kitchen. He was vaguely aware when the melody ceased, but was too tired to investigate why; too preoccupied by his rushing thoughts that always seemed to pick up just when Richie wanted to fall asleep.

Just as he was about to groan in despair, Richie was cut off by the warmth of a thick blanket encompassing his body. Without opening his eyes, Richie turned to face the room. He exhaled and pulled the blanket closer, curling into himself.

"I'm tired," Richie mumbled again, vaguely aware he had, but also completely unsure why he was reiterating himself.

Virgil smiled warmly, his features overtaken by compassion, as he murmured, "I know," tenderly.

Slowly, Virgil removed Richie's glasses and set them on the coffee table after folding them. Getting on his knees, Virgil leaned in closer to Richie and began to gently run his fingers through soft, blond hair. As he hummed the song he sang the night before, Virgil gently glided the fingers of his free hand against one of his dreads, examining his hair, frowning as he noticed for the first time his black hair had become peppered with gray. Shutting his eyes, he let go of his hair, holding back a sigh so as to not cut off his humming.

After fifteen minutes, when Virgil was absolutely sure Richie was asleep, he pushed himself to his feet. Before heading back into the kitchen, Virgil slipped out of his shoes and left them by the couch, not wanting the clicking they made to wake Richie.

Back in the kitchen, Virgil began looking through his cabinets for the necessary supplies to begin preparing dinner. After ten minutes, he finally had everything together. Taking a step back, he took in everything sitting on the counter, making sure he had everything.

Mindlessly, he began putting together a marinade for the chicken. While he worked, his thoughts diverted to the man asleep on his couch. While the love he felt for Richie wasn't exactly unrequited, it wasn't necessarily being returned either. As a matter of fact, the last twenty-four had found Virgil obsessively preoccupied with the fact that he really wanted Richie to be his boyfriend. Virgil had poured everything he had into making sure Richie understood he loved him and could trust him, despite what he had done in the past. It was already beginning to wear him down.

Not that he would ever admit that to Richie; Virgil would do whatever was necessary to make it known he had changed. To make Richie aware Virgil was absolutely, undeniably, committed to him and whatever came of them. And he would do it with a smile because it was what Richie deserved. In many ways, it was like when he used to fight crime; he was unquestionably committed to bringing justice to whomever was terrorizing the streets of Dakota, and he would do it with a smile—and the occasional sarcastic quip—because it was what the residents of Dakota deserved from their resident hero, and it was the same mentality Richie deserved from him.

Sighing, Virgil moved toward the sink to wash his hands post handling chicken. As the hot water rushed over his hands, and he collected a quarter-sized amount of soap in his palm, Virgil's memory reeled over his teenage years. He smiled as he remembered the day Richie officially became Gear. That was unarguably the best day of his entire superhero career. Sure, he had made stupid comments about how he didn't need Gear, and how he had been solo long before Gear came around, but in all actuality, if he was being honest with himself, Static had needed Gear, and Virgil was always going to need Richie.

The days after first seeing Richie, Virgil had been absolutely miserable. He had said and done things he certainly regretted, but he had never been one for properly handling his emotions, which was partially the reason he had started smoking; it helped Virgil deal with what he couldn't on his own. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have told Richie he loved him that day, and perhaps avoided the heartache he felt between that day and Christmas Eve, but perhaps he needed to feel that heartache; needed to realize just how passionate his love was for Richie, because he certainly had come to terms with it before seeing Richie again just the previous night.

Sighing through his nose, Virgil grabbed saran wrap and covered the bowl of marinating chicken. He set a timer for an hour and a half and put the bowl in the refrigerator. Deciding to take a short break, Virgil tossed the towel he had strung through his belt onto the counter and headed out to the living room.

Sitting across from the couch, Virgil smiled as he watched Richie sleep. He hadn't noticed it last night, but seeing Richie sleep was just as adorable as ever, having been, apparently, eternally blessed with baby-like features.

Scratching his forehead, he turned his attention away from Richie and fished through his pocket for his cell phone. Sighing, he pressed the number three and hit send. The phone rang three and a half times before a female voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Sharon?" Virgil questioned, his tone hushed so as to not wake Richie.

"Hey, Virgil," Sharon replied, sounding rather thrilled to her from Virgil. "Merry Christmas," she said warmly.

"Merry Christmas," Virgil replied and shifted.

After a couple moments of silence, Virgil finally spoke again. "So, I was just calling because I wanted to say… um… I wanted to say…" Sighing exasperatedly, Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. It should not have been so hard to apologize. Clicking his tongue, Virgil finally said, "I wanted to say thank you… and, also, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Virgil?" Sharon asked, her tone a mixture of flattered and confused. "And you already thanked me the other day," she reminded.

"I know," Virgil replied. "I just want to thank you again..." He paused, biting his upper lip. Sentimental really was an ability of which Virgil lacked.

Sharon laughed. "Virgil, you're my brother and I care about you." There was a brief pause before Sharon said, "Now, what are you sorry for?"

Virgil laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Um… I'm sorry for… uh… burning a hole in your floor."

Sharon laughed again. "Don't worry about it, Virgil. I'm fairly certain, even without your powers, you would have still found a way to burn a hole in my floor. Angelica is just that infuriating." Sharon paused and then added: "Besides, we found a company that will replace our carpet for cheap, which is lucky for you, because Daddy wanted you to pay for it."

"Mm," Virgil murmured. "I believe pops would want me to do that," he said and laughed airily.

"Did Chelsea have a good Christmas?" Virgil asked, changing the subject.

"I think she did," Sharon said. "We got her a bunch of movies and clothes, mostly. It was the only thing she wanted this year." She paused briefly before asking, "What about Chloé?"

"I think I got her more presents than she knows what to do with," Virgil laughed. Clearing his throat, he switched the phone to his other hand and said, "And she loved having Richie here this morning, too. She adores him."

"Mm," Sharon murmured. She then laughed airily as she said, "I bet Chloé wasn't the only one." She paused and then asked, "How is Richie, anyway?"

"He's fine," Virgil replied and glanced up at Richie. His lips broke into a beam as he watched Richie drool lightly as he slept. Shaking his head slightly, he said, "He's asleep."

"He's still there?" Sharon spurted out in surprise.

"Um…" Virgil stuttered, scratching the back of his neck with his middle finger. "Well… he kind of never left…" He puffed his cheeks. Making a popping nose and letting out a breath, he added: "He's actually been here since last night."

"You two didn't—"

"No!" Virgil interrupted, quickly covering his mouth when Richie groaned and shifted. Relieved Richie didn't wake up; he lowered his tone as he said: "No… we didn't do that. He slept in my bed, but only because Chloé insisted Santa wouldn't come if Richie slept on the couch. And this morning he freaked out about it..."

Virgil went silent for a moment, biting his lower lip gently. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly as he said softly, almost not loud enough for Sharon to hear: "I kissed him."

"You kissed?" Sharon exclaimed. "Oh, my God, Virgil, that's adorable!" she cooed, and immediately Virgil regretted having told her. "Aw! How was it?"

Virgil groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand. Heat of embarrassment rose in his cheeks and it took him a minute to organize his thoughts. "It was…" Virgil sighed. "I don't know how to describe it…"

"Aw, Virgil," Sharon gushed. "Are you going to date him?" she asked, sounding similar to a high school girl gossiping with her friends, and it made Virgil feel uncomfortable. "I think you would be so much happier if you were with Richie."

Virgil sighed. Turning his head to the side, he lowered his voice and cupped a hand around his mouth, though he was unsure whom he was trying to keep from hearing him. "He says he wants to, but he's not ready because he doesn't fully trust me yet. I've been doing whatever I can to make him feel comfortable; to show him he can trust me, but I don't… I don't know what else to do…"

"Give him time," Sharon said gently. "He'll come around."

Virgil let out a sigh of relief. Not that Sharon was always a bitch, but Virgil had been almost certain Sharon was going to make jokes about him asking for romantic advice about men. Though, that fear was most likely due to not being comfortable being out to so many people so abruptly.

"Are you sure?" Virgil finally asked shakily.

Virgil could almost sense Sharon's smile radiating through the phone. The smile he would never admit reminded him of his mother. "I'm sure, Virgil," she assured. "Just keep doing what you're doing and he'll come around."

"He wants me to apologize to Angelica."

Intrigue filled Sharon's tone, and she was obviously trying to keep the venom at bay. If there was anyone that really hated Angelica, Virgil knew, it was Sharon. "Why?"

Virgil shrugged. "He says because I put her through a lot of crap."

Sharon was quiet for a minutes and all Virgil could hear was her heavy breathing. Suddenly, her breathing eased and Sharon said, "I can see that."

Virgil blinked. "I thought you hated her!" he groaned, confused.

"Virgil, I do hate her," Sharon said sympathetically. "But, you were still wrong to marry her to try and get away from being gay," she said, remembering clearly the fight from the night before.

Blinking a couple times, Virgil finally shut his eyes and groaned. "Well, I'm going to try and apologize when she brings Chloé back later," he informed and glanced down at his watch. He rolled his eyes he realized it was already 4:30. Naturally, Virgil was getting close to making dinner, and Angelica and Chloé were nowhere to be seen. "Well, I need to go start dinner," Virgil said. Letting out a sigh, he added, "It was… um… Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sharon said. "Oh, and Virgil, one more thing," she said before they hung up. "I would spend a little more time becoming comfortable with your sexuality and a little less time preoccupied with whether or not Richie trusts you." She paused and sniffed. "I mean, keep doing what you've been doing, but understand Richie is going to trust you only when he's ready. In the meantime, spend time becoming comfortable with yourself. I imagine when you do start dating, he'll want to go place, like the movies, and imagine he'll want to hold your hand."

Clearing his throat, Virgil sighed and nodded understandingly. "Thanks for the advice," was all Virgil could think to say, but he knew Sharon had a point. He would have asked how Sharon knew, but he decided to chalk it up to some female intuition he would never understand and left it alone.

"I'll talk to you later, Sharon."

Almost as soon as Virgil hung up the phone, there was a loud knock at the door. Glancing down at his watch once more, Virgil rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch and answered the door. In the doorway stood Angelica and Chloé, but only his daughter was smiling.

"Daddy!" Chloé exclaimed, running into the apartment and hugging her father tightly. "Is Richie still here?" she asked and broke the hug, backing into the living room.

Virgil was about to answer, but when Chloé squealed in delight, he figured his response was no longer required. With a sigh, Virgil turned back to Angelica who was staring at Virgil blankly. Virgil shifted uncomfortably, grasping the doorknob.

"Richie's here?" Angelica asked.

Virgil pressed the back of his pointer finger and middle finger against his mouth and nodded. "He's been here since last night. He came to Sharon's house sometime after you left."

With an airy, uninterested laugh, Angelica rolled her eyes and said, "I knew he would come back."

Virgil narrowed his eyes and raised his right eyebrow. Cocking his head slightly to the right, he questioned, "What are you talking about? What do you mean you knew?" he spat, the last two words emphasized. "He told me you said everything in the book to convince him to not come back."

Angelica shrugged. "Eh. He's in love with you. Unfortunately, there's no swaying love," she said venomously. Her right nostril flaring and a certain fiery and icy glare filled her eyes. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and said, "Of course, you're such a philanderer that I'm not really surprised," she hissed. "Who the hell wouldn't love you?"

Virgil sighed and lulled his head forward. Pressing his hand against his eyes, he took a minute to gain his composure. When he was calm, he looked back up at Angelica who still had the same irritated expression.

"Angelica, do you want to stay for dinner?" Virgil asked calmly.

"Why the hell would I want to do that?" Angelica hissed sarcastically.

Angelica narrowed her gaze, eyeing Virgil suspiciously. After a beat, she sighed and normalized her gaze but left her eyebrows furrowed. She stood silently and rethought her initial reaction. On the one hand, she wanted to say something else sarcastic and leave, but, on the other hand, she wanted to say yes, because Virgil was the only person outside of Georgia who knew how to make her father's fried chicken.

Finally, she shifted on her heels and asked, "You're having my Daddy's fried chicken?" for verification.

Virgil shrugged. "Only for the last eighteen years," he said; his tone light and joking. "I'm making plenty."

The sound of Angelica's heel impatiently tapping against echoed throughout the apartment. Frowning, she looked up at the ceiling and stuck her tongue against her cheek. Finally, she sighed dejectedly and tugged at the hem of her long-sleeved, dark purple dress, readjusting it on her hips.

Finally, Angelica spoke. "Fine. I'll stay for dinner," she said and made her way into the apartment. Stopping beside Virgil, who closed the front door, she said, "But I'm only staying for the chicken," as she pointed at Virgil. Nodding briefly, she dropped her hand and made her way into the living to sit on the couch with Richie and Chloé.

Virgil sighed as he made his way back into the kitchen, stopping only long enough to take in the sight of Chloé sitting on Richie's lap, talking his ear off about the adventures she had just had with Angelica. He smiled when he realized just how much Chloé liked Richie, and just how much Angelica didn't seem to mind, as she sat on the couch, smiling, watching her daughter talk.

Sighing dismally, Virgil turned away and made his way back into the kitchen, suddenly feeling a bit excluded. Without a doubt, he could have gone into the living room and join the group, but something about the notion felt inappropriate; felt like intruding. The realizations he had about the scene far from helped: Chloé had obviously been excited to see Richie, the last person Angelica wanted to talk to was Virgil, and Virgil still had absolutely no idea where he stood with Richie.

It was a series of realizations that made Virgil glad he was in the kitchen, because the last thing he wanted was any of the aforementioned people to see his tears. To make it all the more worse, he honestly had no idea what he felt excluded from in the first place.

Chloé had wanted to tell Richie about her day and not Virgil, Richie trust Angelica more than Virgil, and Angelica got more quality time with Chloé than Virgil could ever hope to have.

Setting down the spoon he had been absently holding, Virgil slid down the side of the counter and scooted into the corner, pulling his legs to his chest. Burying his face against his legs, Virgil let out a low, distressed groan. His life was supposed to be better now that Richie was back in it; there was supposed to be less anguish and feelings of misery, but here Virgil was, sitting on his kitchen floor, on the verge of a meltdown because his life was going better than he ever thought it could, and he was still managing to find flaws. He had to be crazy; having a panic attack over life going better than expected was ridiculous, it had to be.

Footsteps closed in on Virgil and he became vaguely aware of a warmth knelt down in front on him. "Virgil, are you okay?" he heard Angelica say, her voice sounding shockingly distant and surprisingly concerned. "What's wrong? Why are you on the floor?"

A gentle hand rested on Virgil's shoulder making him to jerk and causing his panic level to rise. His thoughts were already swimming, leaving him completely incapable of figuring out why Angelica was being so sympathetic.

The last thing Virgil remembered before a full-blown panic attack hit was the warmth of two strong arms encompassing him, and the honey of a hushed tone whispering a rhythmic melody in his ear. He had no idea who it was, being too far gone at that point, but he felt safe, comfortable, and warm, and that was all that mattered.

Everything was going so fast.

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><p><strong>AN**: I spent a long time perfecting this chapter. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I know I'm satisfied with it (if that makes any sense whatsoever). The panic attack Virgil had was completely out of my control; I hadn't even originally planned to add it. I kid you not, Virgil completely took over the production of this chapter and I was nothing more than a translator. The panic attack was all him.

Murr. Um. That's all I have to say about this chapter. Stay tuned: In chapter 23, Angelica and Virgil are finally going to talk!

Yet another chapter that's over 3,000 words. XD I'm on a roll with these long chapters!

Review if you want, but you don't have to, because let's be honest, I'm going to post the next chapter whether or not my readers review. XD


	23. Chapter XXIII

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

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><p>"My Daddy told me to go to my room so the adults could talk," Chloé said as she sat down on her bed. Bending over, she fished through one of her bags, looking for a pair of gloves she had chosen while shopping with her mother. When she found them, she lied back on her bed and put them on, examining them. They were yellow and blue—her favorite colors.<p>

There was a rustling noise on the other end of the phone. After a few moments, the rustling ceased and Rachael finally spoke. "Well, do you know what they're talking about?"

Chloé shrugged and laid her arms beside her torso. "I don't know," she said and turned to her side. "Daddy seems sad, though. I think it has to do with my mom."

"What makes you think that?"

Chloé was quiet for a minute. During the pause, she outstretched her hand again and wiggled her fingers, pleased with how well the gloves fit. She had been ecstatic to find blue and yellow—the yellow more gold and the blue more navy—leather gloves, and she couldn't quite get over how cool she felt they made her look. "Daddy had a panic attack." Chloé finally said.

"What did he panic about?" Rachael said and sighed.

"I don't know," Chloé admitted. Sitting up again, she fished through the bags once more, this time looking for a trench coat that matched the blue of the gloves. Sense it matched the gloves so well, Chloé had practically begged her mother to buy it as well. "He's not being himself."

"What do you mean?" Rachael asked, concerned. "Does it have something to do with Richie being there, maybe?"

Chloé shrugged. "Maybe," she said dismissively. "He just seems so different now that Richie is around, and now he's panicking." She paused. "It's not a bad difference; he seems happier, but I'm not sure why."

"Well, wasn't Richie his friend? Maybe he's just happy to see his friend again."

Chloé shook her head. "No," she said simply. "It's different. It's not like when I'm happy to see you; it's a different type of happiness."

Rachael was quiet for a minute, during which time Chloé got up off the bed and tried on her coat. She smiled when she looked in the mirror, happy with the way it fit.

"What kind of happiness?" Rachael finally asked.

"I don't know," Chloé said again. She pressed pointer finger to her chin as she thought. "Mm," she finally mumbled. "It's like when your Daddy is happy to see your mom."

"So, your Daddy loves Richie?" Rachael asked, her tone increasing slightly in pitch at the sentence's completion. There was a silence that stretched over five minutes. Finally, Rachael made an undistinguishable noise and said, "Maybe you'll have two daddies."

Chloé sniffed and shrugged out of her coat. After stuffing the coat back in the bag, she pulled off the gloves and put them back in the bag as well. Getting back on her bed, she laid down and, finally, she said, "Well, three, probably."

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><p>Virgil was aware Richie had asked him to stop, and he would, but first he had to get through talking to Angelica. While it seemed ridiculous Virgil would be uncomfortable talking to a woman he had once slept with, he nonetheless was and smoking helped to ease that stress. Save for the days following Virgil and Richie's Monday run-in, smoking always helped to calm Virgil's nerves and stress levels, both of which were heightened at this moment.<p>

Angelica crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she raised an eyebrow and flared a nostril. "Since when do you smoke?" she spat. "You better not do that around Chloé," she hissed warningly.

Virgil rolled his eyes and rested the hand holding the cigarette on the arm of the chair, keeping his wrist flexed upward so as to not burn his furniture. "Why the hell would I smoke around Chloé, Angelica?" he spat in return. "Contrary to popular belief, I actually can be a pretty decent human being."

Angelica snorted, but the sound lacked amusement. "Yeah, well, I've never seen it," she hissed.

Virgil laughed sarcastically. "Oh, you've never seen it? Is that right?" He fixated a glare on Angelica as he continued, "Angelica, who bought you your first house; your first car? Who called the police station when you were pregnant, risking his job," he emphasized, "to cuss out an officer for giving you a ticket because it made you cry? A ticket you really did deserve, by the way." A nose-wrinkling smile, that dripped sarcasm when paired with his words, crossed Virgil's features as he continued. "Who bought you a $10,000 ring to make for the fact I couldn't afford one when we got married? Who learned to make your father's fried chicken after he died? Who did the laundry, the dishes, and cleaned the bathroom, because those are your least favorite chores? And who went to every romance movie that came out for two years after your dad died?" He paused, running his tongue over his top teeth. "And just for the record, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I enjoyed those movies. I hate romance movies; they're stupid," he said, and slouched back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, please, please tell me how horrible of a person I am," Virgil hissed, his smile turning to a frown and his glare becoming venomous.

Angelica was quiet for a minute, biting her bottom lip gently. A series of thoughts went through her mind, but none of them seemed to be an appropriate response. Sighing exasperatedly, Angelica finally said, "Fine. Maybe you weren't completely," she said with emphasis, "a terrible husband.

"But you didn't actually love me," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. "You may have done all those things for me, but you didn't love me, and you lied to me."

Placing the butt of the cigarette gently between his lips, Virgil inhaled a long drag. Unnoticeably holding his breath for several moments, Virgil glanced diagonally to the couch where Richie was sitting, having agreed he would only say something if Angelica and Virgil's conversation turned by any means violent. After looking up at the ceiling to let out the smoke, he turned his attention back to Angelica. He sighed, knowing what he wanted to say, but also fully aware of what actually needed to be said.

"I'm sorry," Virgil said, slumping further into his seat.

Angelica blinked, caught off guard by the sudden apology. It hadn't been what she was expecting Virgil to say, so she hadn't prepared herself for it. Kitting her eyebrows, she mentally bounced around the words, trying to figure out for what Virgil was apologizing. In the twenty years she had known Virgil, she learned quickly that he did not apologize for anything, unless he was approached with an apology first.

Virgil sighed, realizing Angelica probably wasn't going to speak anytime soon, so he decided to continue. "I'm sorry for dragging you along for twenty years," Virgil said quietly, doing his best to maintain eye contact with Angelica. "I'm sorry for marrying you to pretend to be straight, and I'm sorry for not telling you and leaving you to wonder and assume."

Angelica blinked and knitted her eyebrows together. For a long time, she debated over what emotions to feel, finding that nothing quiet explained what was rushing through her mind. She wasn't mad; even she knew it was bitchy to be mad at someone who was trying to apologize. She wasn't happy; it wasn't like Virgil apologizing would make up from twenty years of his crap, even if it were certainly a start. And she wasn't sad; there was nothing to be sad about. The question still remained, though: What were her feelings?

In a barely audible whisper, Angelica finally said, "I just wanted you to love me," and sighed softly. "For a long time, I couldn't figure out why you didn't, and I thought it was my fault," she began, realizing quickly the she had no control over what she was saying. "I was pissed when I realized you loved someone else, and even more mad that you wouldn't tell me."

"I didn't want to accept it," Virgil said with a shrug. Part of him still didn't want to accept it; wanted to crawl back into the shadows and remain completely in the closet from everyone. "I didn't know it was going to get me into this huge mess."

"How could you have honestly not realized that, Virgil?" Angelica spat, her words coming across a little more venomously than she had intended. She slumped back into her seat and crossed her arms.

Virgil shrugged defensively. "I… I thought…" he sighed and trailed off, realizing he had no idea what he wanted to say. For several moments, he sat and debated over what to say to Angelica to make her understand that he really didn't think he would end up in this mess. "I thought… if I married you… it meant I wasn't gay."

Angelica raised an eyebrow, her features easing to sympathy. "What would make you think that?"

Virgil shrugged one shoulder. Shaking his head slightly, he looked down at the burned-out butt between his fingers and sighed. He wanted another one, but didn't want to further disappoint Richie.

"Well, look at yourself, Angelica; you're absolutely beautiful," Virgil said and smiled softly when Angelica grinned from the compliment. After a moment, the smile faded, and Virgil continued speaking. "I'm not saying that you can convert people from their sexuality—I obviously get that isn't possible—but I wanted to try. I thought, maybe, if I could marry a woman it meant some part of me still liked them… but that obviously wasn't true. I mean, Angelica, I cared about you, and I wanted to do everything for you, but… having sex with you felt more like a chore than something I actually wanted to do." He paused and gave Angelica his full attention momentarily, looking for a reaction to his last statement, but she seemed completely indifferent. "I should have learned to accept it then; not put it off for twenty years."

Virgil sighed and finally quit talking. Closing his eyes, he laid his head back against the chair, suddenly feeling weary from everything just said. To make matters worse, he was far from done being open and honest with Angelica; there was still one major thing he had to tell her, because she deserved to know it.

"I accept your apology," Angelica said.

Virgil shot up almost faster than he could send a bolt of lightning across the room. The look on his face was comically confused and he stared wide-eyed at Angelica. "What?"

Angelica rolled her eyes, a small grin forming across her lips, puckering her top lip gently. "I said I forgive you."

"I… uh… but… why, though?"

Shaking her head, Angelica laughed quickly, airily. She smiled as she spoke. "Virgil, I'm forty years old. I have so many better things to do with my life than continue hating and fighting with you." She paused briefly. "I just wanted an apology." Shifting in her seat, she leaned in toward Virgil once more. Sighing, she admitted, "The only reason I told Richie not to come back to you… is because I didn't think you deserved him." Angelica paused to clear her throat. "Look, Virgil, in all honesty, I'm pretty sure I always knew you were gay, but… I guess… I didn't want to accept it either. And, I suppose, part of the reason I've been so mad at you is because I was mad at myself for letting you string me along for so long."

"You knew?"

Angelica nodded. "Well, I didn't know," she emphasized, "but I was pretty damn sure. I mean, we almost never had sex; you spent all your time at work; and, you always stared at the picture on your dresser." She paused and thought for a moment. Then she was hit with a realization. "You started smoking to continue avoiding your sexuality, didn't you?"

Virgil sighed and scratched his forehead with the middle finger of his right hand—the one that wasn't still holding the cigarette butt. Nodding gently, he said, "Well, and I was stressed out about our divorce." He sighed, puffing out his cheeks. Sniffing, Virgil pushed himself out of the seat long enough to get into another position, now sitting in the chair cross-legged.

"So why did you convince the court so earnestly that I'm this horrible father?" Virgil questioned, pressing his hand against the right side of his neck, where the shoulder and neck met. Furrowing his eyebrows, he sighed and said softly, "Do you really think I'm a bad parent?"

Angelica sighed and shook her head gently. "No," she admitted. "In fact, I think you're a great father. Chloé absolutely loves you." She paused and laughed airily, shaking her head at the thoughts rushing through her mind. "Sometimes, Chloé goes weeks talking only about you, and she tells me all the time she wishes she could see you more."

Virgil shrugged, a blank expression covering his features, but his eyes filled with hurt. Shaking his head slowly, he looked down at his lap and sighed. "Then why?" was all he could bring himself to say.

"I was mad." Angelica sighed and scratched her hairline. She bit the inside of her lower lip and glazed down at the ground, her expression solemn. Drawing a deep breath, she kept her attention on the floor as she said, "Virgil, I think you're a great father, but I was mad. That was it; I was mad, and I didn't want Chloé to be around you because…"

"I'm gay?" Virgil questioned, knitting his eyebrows together.

"No!" Angelica protested quickly and shook her head. "No… no, that's not it," Angelica said feverishly, holding up her hands defensively. "No, Virgil, I don't care you're gay. I care you're a liar. I didn't want our daughter around a liar." Sighing, Angelica dropped her hands to her lap and clasped her hands. Nodding gently, she continued, "I just figured… if you were going to lie to me, what was stopping you from lying to Chloé?"

"I would never lie to Chloé," Virgil said and sighed.

Nodding his head rhythmically to some tune in his head, his thoughts diverted to a week before, when Chloé told Virgil she was clairvoyant, and how he hadn't told Chloé about his own abilities. A pang of guilt shot through his body and he gave another, slightly more distressed, sigh. Was not telling her the truth really a lie? Was it lying to not tell your own daughter about your own powers to protect yourself, even if she did deserve to know? Virgil sighed, leaning his head against the back of the chair, well on his way to falling out of the seat.

"Angelica, there's something you should know about Chloé," Virgil finally said and sat up straight. His entire body loose, he leaned forward a little to get closer to Angelica. When he saw the concern in Angelica's eyes, Virgil finally spoke. "No, no, it's nothing bad… Um. Angelica… Chloé's a… bang baby."

Immediately, Angelica's mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. For close to ten minutes, she said nothing. Her only response to Virgil's statement was periodical blinking and the occasional attempt to speak that turned into incoherent crackling noises. Finally, she broke from her trance and pressed her hands against her face and began muttering, "Wha… what? What? How? How is she… how is he a bang baby? The big bang was thirty… years… ago…" Her eyes shot open wide when the realization of what Virgil was saying hit. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed loudly. "You're a bang baby? What bang baby? Who are you?"

Virgil sighed and pressed his pointer fingers against the sides of his nose. Sighing, he glanced up at Richie who simply shrugged, as if to say: "You got yourself into this mess. Get yourself out of it." At least, that's what Virgil got from the shrug, so he turned his attention back to Angelica, debating for a moment how to tell Angelica just who he was. But actions spoke louder than words, and it saved time, so he decided to show her instead.

Clearing his throat, shot a bolt of electricity from his pointer finger, across the room, to the radio, and turned it on to an R&B station. Flicking his pointer finger against his thumb, he sniffed and turned his attention to Angelica who was dumbfounded and staring blankly at the radio as it played its gentle tune.

A smile slowly began creeping across Angelica's features and soon became a grin. Virgil responded to the reaction by knitting his eyebrows and frowning, having no idea what to make of her reaction. Suddenly, Angelica jumped up from her seat and Virgil found himself wrapped in a hug strong enough to suffocate. It was when Angelica began squealing that Virgil pushed her away and gave her a look of complete confusion.

"You're Static!" Angelica cried. "Oh, my God, you're Static! Oh, my God, I used to love you when I was a kid!" she said, squealing like a schoolgirl. Letting go of Virgil, she took a step back, but the pure joy still radiated in her eyes as she continued to fuss over Virgil. "I used to collect all the newspaper clippings about you, and I basically had a shrine to you in my fucking closet," she said. Whether or not Virgil found it weird was not a concern to her, because she was simply that excited. "No, but, seriously, you were like the hottest superhero ever. My friends and I fucking loved you. You were, like, a majority of our conversations. Seriously! We were always talking about what cool things you did, and what evil you had fought recently." She paused to catch her breath, glancing between Virgil and Richie, but stopping her attention on Richie. She gasped loudly as she said, "Oh, my God," squealing. "Were you Gear?"

Richie sighed and rolled his eyes, glancing sideways at Virgil. When Virgil shrugged in a similar manner to what Richie had done moments before, Richie rolled his eyes again and turned his attention back to Angelica. "Yes."

Angelica looked as though she were ready to faint. She stumbled backwards into her seat, her eyes wide and her head spinning, swimming. There were no words to the absolute degree of glee that she felt; to know that the two greatest superheroes of Dakota were sitting in Virgil's living room.

"Oh, my God," Angelica exclaimed loudly, cupping her hands over her mouth as her eyes practically bulged. She looked between Virgil and Richie, her breathing heavy as she processed the realization she had just had. "Oh, my God…" she muttered again, dropping her hands to her lap. "I've slept with Static," he muttered, mostly to herself.

"What?" Virgil asked, knitting his eyebrows and scrunching his nose. "Did you just say…?"

"I've slept with Static!" Angelica squealed loudly, immediately cupping her hands over her mouth again, praying Chloé hadn't heard what she said, and immensely thankful for her for her ethnicity, because she would have been beet red otherwise.

"I…" Virgil began, just as thankful for his ethnicity as Angelica was. Dropping his face into his hands, he inhaled deeply through his nose when he realized how hot his cheeks were. "Oh, my God," he muttered several times. "This is ridiculous… I…" Sniffing, Virgil looked back up at Angelica who was practically bouncing from excitement, and he immediately notice how childlike Angelica really was. To say the least, he found it endearing; it was better than the woman who was always made at him and yelling at him for one reason or another. If knowing he was Static would keep them from fight—though it also seemed that apologizing would help that—then Virgil was thankful Angelica knew.

Virgil just hadn't been expecting her to be a Static fan girl.

"Does this mean we'll quit fighting?" was all Virgil could think to ask.

Angelica laughed. "Virgil, apologizing to me meant we would quit fighting," she said and then grinned as she continued. "Being Static just means our marriage was awesome, because now I can tell everyone who I was married to be the coolest person at work."

Virgil rolled his eyes and smacked his palm to his forehead. With an airy laugh, he said, "I would really prefer you didn't; I don't need the whole city knowing where Static lives. I'm perfectly content without the media at my doorstep," he said and laughed again. "To be honest, I would rather you just tell people I'm gay."

Angelica gave an airy laugh and wrapped her arms around the back of her neck. Sighing contentedly, she nodded, silently agreeing she wouldn't tell anyone he was Static, if it really meant that much to him. Sighing again, she dropped her hands to her lap and said, "So, what powers does Chloé have exactly?"

Virgil smiled. "I think it'll be better if she tells you," he said and shifted in his seat. "Chloé," Virgil called loudly after his daughter. "Can you come here for a minute?"

After a beat, Chloé appeared in the living room. "Yes, Daddy?" she asked as she stood in front of the chair Virgil was sitting in. "Is it time for dinner?"

Virgil shook his head. "Not yet, baby. I'm going to make dinner soon. I promise." When he received a nod from Chloé, Virgil continued with the reason he had called his daughter to the living room. "I want you your mom about your powers," Virgil said and nodded his head sideways toward Angelica. With a smile, he added, "I'll tell you about mine and Richie's after you do," with a wink.

Chloé gasped. "You have powers?" she exclaimed gleefully. "Is that how I got mine?" she practically squealed. Her mouth went agape and her eyes wide when she was hit with another realization, "Do you think Rachael's Daddy has powers, too?"

Angelica raised an eyebrow. "What's this about Rachael?"

Chloé grinned as she spun around to face her mother. With a prideful grin, she said, "Rachael is a super genius and I'm clairvoyant, Mom."

Richie snorted from his spot on the couch, rewarding himself with a strange look from both Virgil and Angelica. Laughing airily he said, "Sorry. That just fully explains why Chloé randomly knew who I was on Monday and why I'm here."

Virgil rolled his eyes and tossed the closest pillow he could reach at Richie's face, laughing as he did so. Getting up from his seat so Chloé could sit closer to her mother, Virgil made his way over to the couch and sat down beside Richie. As he watched Chloé go into full detail about everything she could do as someone who was clairvoyant, Virgil found himself hand in hand with Richie. Glancing down at their hands briefly, Virgil looked up at Richie and raised an eyebrow. Richie's only response was a simple shrug of his left shoulder and a small smile.

Leaning against Richie slightly, Virgil let out a low, content sigh. He smiled warmly as he continued watching Chloé excitedly explain clairvoyance, never before realizing there was so much to it. His features animated along with Angelica's and he eventually found himself laughing when Chloé said her and Rachael wanted to become superheroes.

"So, Daddy, Richie," Chloé said, breaking Virgil of his trance, "What are your powers?"

"Well, I'm a super-genius," Richie said with a smile.

Chloé gasped loudly and climbed up on Richie's lap causing Richie to let go of Virgil's hand. "Cool! Can I introduce you to Rachael? She would love to know another super-genius!" she exclaimed and laughed. "She says there aren't enough intelligent people to talk to."

Richie laughed loudly, pressing his hand over the part of his nose that was blushing red. He wrapped his arms tightly around Chloé and said, while nodding vigorously, "Yes, I would love to meet Rachael," he said. For a moment he was quiet as he looked from Virgil to Chloé and back again. Finally, he leaned into Chloé and said in a whisper he hoped Virgil couldn't hear: "Do you think Rachael could show me how that mp3 player works?"

"You're still preoccupied with that mp3 player, Richie?" Virgil questioned and laughed. "It's been hours!"

Richie looked at Virgil with a playfully warning expression. Raising his eyebrows, he tilted his head sideways and said, "I need to know how to works, V."

_V_. It had been twenty years since anyone had called him that. He had almost forgotten that used to be his nickname. For two decades he had been 'Virgil' or 'Mr. Hawkins,' but never 'V.' It was a rather nice for someone to call him something wasn't quite so professional.

Laughing to himself, he finally broke from his thoughts and turned his attention back to Chloé as she and Richie gossiped about Rachael and all the stuff she had invented or wanted to invent, and the twinkle in Richie's eye was enough to make Virgil's heart melt; he loved when Richie was excited about inventing, even if he never understood it. Plain and simple, he loved Richie, and Virgil wanted nothing more than to show Richie just how much.

And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

"I'll be right back," Virgil said and got up from the couch.

Walking over to the seat Angelica was occupying, Virgil gently tapped Angelica's shoulder and motioned toward the balcony door. With a look of confusion, Angelica got up from the couch and followed Virgil outside. When the sliding door was securely shut, and they were facing one another, Angelica spoke up.

"What's up, Virgil?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Virgil let it out shakily as he leaned against the table. Clearing his throat, he debated over what to say for a few moments, pinching his nose when his thoughts were rushing too fast. He took a moment to slow them down, breathing evenly. Finally letting his hand drop to his side, Virgil gave his full, undivided attention to Angelica.

"I… um…" Virgil began, stumbling momentarily over his thoughts. He hated asking for help, but this was something he had never properly done this before, and he figured the best person to ask was Angelica. "I want to… um…" He trailed off, still not fully sure what to say, or how to say it, or why he was so embarrassed about it in the first place. Dropping his gaze to the ground, he wrapped his right hand around the ring finger of his left hand and massaged it gently.

"Aw, Virgil," Angelica exclaimed, watching Virgil intently. She grinned as she wrapped her arms around Virgil's neck and Virgil wrapped his arms loosely around the middle of her back. "Of course I'll help you, Virgil. That's adorable."

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><p><strong>AN**: Holy long fucking chapter, Batman! I had a lot to say, I guess. Not that you all mind, right? XD

Um. So. How did you like it? I personally enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, and I think it's great place to end the story!

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... I'm just kidding. I wouldn't end the story on a cliffhanger. XD I'm not that mean, guys! But I don't think there will be many more chapters. Probably just one or two! So... yeah... XD

Um. Let me think. Is there anything else I want to comment on? *thinks*

Oh! Um. I thoroughly enjoyed the outfit of Chloé's I described at the beginning. XD If it sounds strangely similar to Static's costume, it's because it's supposed to; that was the whole point. Not to mention, I just think that Static's gloves are the coolest ever and I TOTALLY think that Dakota would mass produce a similar product as winter clothing. Why? The same reason we mass produce Batman stuff. XD

Erm. Um. Yeah. I hope you all liked the conversation with Angelica, because I personally thought it was amazing. And turned out a lot better than I thought it would. I personally thought there was going to be bloodshed, and I'm seriously glad there wasn't. I didn't want to deal with bloodshed. And I also didn't really want to deal with post panic attack stuff, so I just had Chloé mention it to Rachael. Good enough, right? XD

Anyway. Please review! I would really, really appreciate reviews! I worked really hard on this chapter, and I want some feedback on it! Thank you!

Also, just for the record, I'm in college and it's nearing the end of the quarter, meaning that I have papers and homework GALORE. Woo. So, I may not be able to update with chapter twenty-four as soon as I like. Sit tight; I WILL post it. I promise you!


	24. Chapter XXIV

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

**Summary**: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

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><p>"So, I was thinking we could rent a jet and have it spell out 'Will you marry me?' in a cloud," Angelica said as she paced back and forth in the living room. "That would be so romantic, don't you think?" she gushed, turning her attention to Virgil.<p>

Groaning loudly, Virgil lulled his head back against the couch. "Angelica, I just want something… I don't know… smaller. Quaint," he said puffed before looking up at Angelica. "Can you do that, Angelica? Quaint?"

"Quaint isn't fun, Virgil," Angelica insisted. "You want to propose in a way he'll never forget. It has to be memorable! Jets are memorable!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "How is quaint not fun? I don't even like showy."

Angelica snorted and placed a hand firmly on her hip. "Now, I know," she emphasized, laughing, "that's a lie. Static was nothing but showy!"

"Static was not showy!"

"Oh, come on, Virgil," Angelica exasperated. "Static was fifty percent all about showing off! When you weren't fighting crime, you were showing off!"

Virgil exhaled loudly and buried his face into his hands. Sighing softly, he mumbled, "Maybe this was a mistake. We aren't even dating yet."

Angelica sighed threw her nose and dropped her hand from her hip. She frowned which caused her shoulders to slump. Sitting next to Virgil, she laid her hand gently on Virgil's left shoulder blade and made gentle, soothing circles.

"Virgil," Angelica said gently, "do you want to be with Richie?"

"Of course I do," Virgil said in the midst of a groan. Sighing shakily, he dropped his hands to his lap and turned to look at Angelica, causing her to remove her hand from his back.

Sadness in Virgil's eyes penetrated the room, and echoed off the walls as he spoke. "I just… this is too much. This is all you and I have talked about for two days. All we've talked about," he emphasized. "I haven't even seen him since Christmas." He paused, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "So, maybe I'm just going too fast with this."

Angelica sighed and smiled gently. "Maybe you can go see him then? It sort of sounds like that's what you need to do right now."

Virgil shrugged. "I don't want to interrupt anything."

Laughing softly, Angelica patted Virgil's back. "If he loves you like I think he does, I'm more than positive he'll welcome the distraction."

Virgil smiled and rolled his eyes. Standing, Virgil and Angelica embraced in a warm, friendly hug.

"Thanks, Angelica." Virgil pulled away from the hug, stepping about a foot away.

"Of course, Virgil," Angelica said and smiled. After a beat, she added, "Also, just call me 'Angel.' Most people nowadays do and it makes me feel younger," she chuckled. She pushed a few strands of stray hair out of her face.

Virgil pushed his right hand through his dreads. He smiled and laughed airily. "Well, if I'm going to call you 'Angel,' you're just gonna have to call me 'V'," he countered. Grinning, he mouthed: "It makes me feel younger."

Angelica threw her head back in an uproar of laughter. "Virgil Hawkins, I am not afraid to backhand you," she said and raised a finger at him.

"If you wanna backhand me, you have to catch me first," Virgil taunted with a grin.

Virgil turned on his heels and raced toward the door while laughing, collecting his keys with his static cling on the way out. Once he made it to the parking lot, Angelica still on his tail, he pulled the hubcap from his car, charged it and jumped on it. Hovering about three feet above Angelica's head, he turned and knelt down, his hands dangling between his legs. He grinned.

"That is not even fair!" Angelica cried vehemently, her tone screeching. "You can't get away from me by hovering above me!"

"Really?" Virgil laughed and raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm pretty sure I am," he quipped.

Angelica glared. "Fine," she murmured and turned away from Virgil, heading back into the apartment.

"Where are you going?"

"To get you down from there," Angelica said, and immediately disappeared into the apartment complex.

Five minutes passed before Angelica came back. When she returned, Virgil was sitting on his pseudo-saucer with his feet dangling off the edge. He watched as Angelica walked up to him holding a bucket full of sloshing water. Eyes wide, Virgil jumped off the hubcap to his feet, the hubcap crashing down behind him. "You were not about to throw water at me," he whined.

"I dunno," Angelica mumbled. "I might have; I have the water right here. See?" She tipped the bucket slightly.

"That would make you such a bitch, though," Virgil informed and crossed his arms with a huff. "Why would you want to throw water at your favorite superhero?" he said with big, brown eyes.

"That only works with blue eyes," Angelica laughed. She dumped half the water out on the ground around Virgil's feet, causing him to jump back. "I wouldn't be throwing water at my favorite superhero," she laughed. "I would have been throwing water at my ex-husband."

"What's the difference?"

"Believing the latter helps me sleep at night."

Virgil rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're such a bitch, Angel."

"Mm. Well, you're an ass, V," Angelica retorted, laughing. "Now go see Richie," she said and dumped out the remainder of the water. "Like I said, I'm sure he'll welcome the distraction from whatever he's doing."

"How long will you be here?"

Angelica shrugged and glanced at her watch. "Well, I have to work at three, so I'll only be here for another forty-five minutes or so. I need to drop Chloé off at Rachael's house before I go to work and I need to go back to my house and get my stuff and I need a shower… yeah… all that…"

Virgil chuckled. As he shifted from one foot to the other, he reached his left arm around the back of his neck and scratched the right side of his head.

"I could take Chloé with me," Virgil offered and shrugged.

"You need some alone time with Richie, though," Angelica reminded Virgil. She cleared his throat. "She would probably have more fun at Rachael's house, anyway."

"I suppose so." Virgil clicked his tongue. He popped his lips when he had an idea. "Well, at least let me take her to Rachael's house. That way you don't have to rush," he offered.

"Rachael lives in Gotham, though. I live in Gotham. Richie lives here in Dakota," Angelica said as if she were giving Virgil a geography lesson. "It would be more convenient for me to drop her off on the way back to my house.

"But I guess if you want to take Chloé, then that's fine," Angelica added after considering the offer. "She probably would rather be with you than her old mother," she laughed airily.

"Oh come on," Virgil said and headed back into the apartment, side by side with Angelica. "You aren't old, Angel; not with a name like that."

Angelica snorted and jabbed Virgil in the side with her elbow, gently pushing Virgil against the wall as they walked up the stairs. She laughed when Virgil did the same and then grabbed her arm so she could catch her balance.

"See, this is why you're irresistible," Angelica said and snickered. "I'm pretty sure you're just a natural born coquette."

Virgil knitted his eyebrows and stopped walking. "What?"

Angelica rolled her eyes and laughing soundlessly. "You're a flirt," she said and continued walking.

"Oh."

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><p>After dropping off Chloé at Rachael's house, and having a brief conversation with Francis about how his life had changed in the short week, Virgil made his way back to Dakota to stop by Richie's house.<p>

During the entire drive, he nervously played through different scenarios in his head about what he would say if Richie minded the interruption and what he would say if he did not. If he did not mind the interruption, then Virgil figured there was nothing to worry about, so he didn't spend long thinking about that possibility. However, if he did mind, what would Virgil say? What would he do? Virgil really did want to see Richie, but he didn't want to interrupt if Richie were in the middle of something important, such as grading papers or inventing a way control the space-time continuum—because, hey, it was something for which Richie would strive.

After an all-to-short but all-to-long fifteen minute drive back into Dakota, Virgil found himself sitting in Richie's driveway. Nervously, he looked from his steering wheel, up to Richie's front door, and back again. He repeated the actions for close to ten minutes before mustering up the courage to get out and walk to his front door. Under any other circumstances—such as not having spent twenty years not being friends—Virgil would have ran up to Richie's door and barged in, not at all concerned with what Richie was doing, but these were not normal circumstances, and, while Richie and Virgil were "best friends," they still weren't on the best of terms. It made for a confusing situation.

Standing at Richie's front door, Virgil knocked gently three times and stepped back. He waited for close to five minutes and, when there was no answer, he repeated the process. After fifteen minutes of knocking and waiting, Virgil deduced that Richie wasn't home, despite his car being in the driveway, and turned to leave.

Just as Virgil began to turn away, he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of distant sobbing. Furrowing his eyebrows, Virgil hastily turned back toward the door and pressed his ear against the door. It didn't take him long to realize the sobbing was coming from inside Richie's condo and Virgil began to panic, knowing full well that the only person that could possibly be crying was Richie. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he began to turn it, frenzied, to no avail; it was locked. Getting down on his knees, Virgil picked the lock with a small bolt of electricity, periodically shaking the doorknob until it became unlocked. Standing up straight, Virgil pushed the door in and walked into Richie's house.

"Richie!" Virgil called out shakily. "Richie, where are you?"

Richie didn't answer, but as Virgil made his way toward the kitchen, the sobbing became louder until Virgil was face to face with the sight of Richie, kneeling on the ground, hunched over, frantically sobbing. In one swift movement, Virgil found himself on the ground, face to face with Richie.

"Richie, what's wrong?" Virgil asked, panicked, with his hands on Richie's shoulders. "Why are you crying?" He was trying his best to keep his tone even; both of them being upset would never get them anywhere.

Instead of answering, Richie lifted his head, his eyes practically glowing from tears, his face a combination of beet and strawberry red—beet from the color, strawberry because it was speckled white, and his nose dripping snot that made Richie continually sniff.

The sight of his best friend on the floor crying, the way he looked, hitched Virgil's voice and made his heart shatter in his chest. Virgil did his best to hold back his own tears as he pulled into a tight, protective hug. A hug that was cut short when he felt something pressed against his stomach. He pushed Richie away slightly and looked down.

And his heart broke that much more.

Covered from head to toe in goose bumps, tears falling from the corners of his eyes, and his hands shaking, Virgil let go of Richie completely and reached out to collect Aria's stiff corpse from Richie's hands into his own arms. He watched as Richie's arms fell limp and his entire fell to the floor.

After setting Aria's body carefully and respectfully on a chair beside him, Virgil scooted closer to Richie and pulled him up off the ground into his arms. As Virgil held Richie, he became aware of the tears that covered his shoulder, and with each tear that he felt, Virgil tightened the hold on Richie that much more. Loosening his hold, Virgil repositioned his hands and began stroking Richie's soft, sweat-matted, salt-blond hair while his other hand made gentle, soothing circles on Richie's lower back; not too low, but enough to be considered said portion of the back.

Just like on Christmas Eve, Virgil began singing a gentle, soothing tune, but this time the words were carried with a honeysuckle sweetness rather than sensuality; but, just like Christmas Eve, the words were still carried with a gentle, graceful ease. The only word that came close to describing his singing was: breath-taking, because after several moments, Virgil found that Richie's crying had come to a cease, save for the occasional tearful hiccups and small whimpers. Even after Richie had come to full silence, Virgil continued singing until the song came to an end and, when he was done, held Richie securely against his chest until he was ready to talk.

"I woke up… a—and… and… and… sh—she… she was—she wasn't there," Richie explained tearfully and began crying convulsively once more.

"Sh, shh, Richie, it's okay," Virgil cooed softly as he held one arm around Richie's upper back and used the other one to lift Richie's head by the chin. "Hey," he said with a warm smile. "It'll be okay."

For several minutes Richie was completely silent, scanning Virgil's chocolate brown, black speckled eyes. Taking in every detail, from the way it looked like Virgil's iris was rimmed with the petals of a brown sunflower, to fact that the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

However, he was looking for more than just the physical description of Virgil's eyes. He was looking for trust; he was looking for a reason to believe that everything really would be alright. For close to ten minutes, Richie examined the way Virgil's left eyebrow was arched and not the right, and the fact that his irises never once dilated. He noted the fact that Virgil's smile was gentle and friendly, and the way they never lost eye contact.

Richie sobbed violently as he buried his face into Virgil's chest. "Wha—what am I—what am I going to do without her? She was my best friend."

As he pulled Richie closer, holding onto him as if someone were about to take him away, Virgil did his best to even his breathing as his thoughts reeled. Richie's best friend had been a cat. Not another human, but a feline. For twenty years, Richie had put his trust and love into a creature of another species, and it tore Virgil's heart to pieces. As a result of his stupid, selfish actions, he had driven Richie to find friendship with a cat while the world around him fell apart; while everyone else in his life left him for one reason or another. Richie's one constant had been Aria, and now he was on his kitchen floor, sobbing, because his best friend had died.

Virgil's thoughts ceased, and he realized he was still holding tightly onto Richie as his best friend sobbed against his chest. Richie was Virgil's best friend.

"Richie, I love you," Virgil said desperately, and almost immediately began kicking himself; kicking himself for making Aria's death about himself and his feelings. This was supposed to be about Richie.

Richie pulled away from Virgil's chest, a sad smile furrowing his eyebrows, making his eyelids heavy, and turning down his lips. For close to five minutes, Richie did nothing but stared at Virgil.

Finally, Richie gulped heavily, almost nervously. Amongst the tears, anguish, and sadness, a small smile cut across Richie's lips, brightening just slightly every feature on his dispirited face, bringing to Richie's eyes a luminosity Virgil hadn't seen anyone look at him with in years.

"I love you, too, Virgil," Richie finally replied with the same intensity and desperation Virgil had said it to him in. "And…" he began, trailing off, his voice becoming choked up. After a moment, he continued. "I know it'll be okay," he said in a soft tone.

Gently, Virgil stretched out his hand and ran his thumb over the soft skin under Richie's eyes, wiping away the tears that had collected. For a moment, his thumb lingered on Richie's cheek bone and they both smiled.

And Virgil knew right then what he wanted hadn't been a mistake.

The mistake had been waiting so long to go after what he now knew he wanted.

Drawing in a deep, extremely shaking breath, Virgil dropped his hand and placed both of them firmly on Richie's hips. When Richie glanced down at the firm hands on his hips, Virgil murmured softly to coax Richie into looking back at him. Virgil smiled warmly when Richie's ocean blue eyes met his, sending a surge of electricity through his veins, causing him to gasp softly as his whole body momentarily tensed. The ocean of Richie's eyes were the one weakness Virgil couldn't live without.

"Richie," Virgil began and bit his lip gently. He let out a soft sigh, practically glowing as he watched the trust in Richie's eyes crash like waves. "I've missed you so much," he said and pulled himself closer to Richie, wrapping his arms around Richie's lower back. He was quiet for a minute, debating feverishly how to continue without sounding corny. When he realized that was an impossible feat, he nevertheless continued, deciding it was more important to sound cheesy than to lose his nerve and loose his chance to sound as such. "Richie, when we first met, I knew you were special. I wasn't sure how, because, well, I was eight," he said and both of them chuckled airily. When the seriousness returned, Virgil continued. "But I knew you were." He paused briefly and glanced up at the ceiling. Taking in a deep breath, he looked back down at Richie, regaining eye contact. "I'm not gonna to lie; I'm not really good at being romantic." He chuckled to himself. "I guess that's why I wanted Angel's help with this."

Richie smiled. His voice was small as she spoke. "You're doing fine," he encouraged. He then knitted his eyebrows but remained smiling. "Wanted her help with what, V?" he asked.

"It's just…" Virgil began, and Richie knew that Virgil was about to dive headfirst into one of his pointless rants. "This feels so awkward, but at the same time, it feels like it's something I need to do. Like, if I don't do it right now, I'll never get another chance or something, which is probably crazy, considering that I will probably see you all the time, but I just can't shake this feeling—"

"V," Richie said, attempting to interrupt him.

"—that—"

"Virgil," he tried again.

"—if I don't do it now I won't be able to—"

"Virgil!" Richie tried one last time, raising his voice ever so slightly. When he had Virgil's startled attention he calmly said: "You're rambling."

Virgil smiled and glanced down at the ground, slightly embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he looked back up at Richie and said, "Look, I know this seems out of nowhere, and that I don't have anything prepared, or anything to give you, and this probably seems like the most inopportune time ever—"

Richie cleared his throat to cut off Virgil from another one of his pointless rants. He smiled when he got Virgil's full attention again.

"Richie?"

"Yes, Virgil?"

There was a long silence. Gently, Virgil grasped his own hand around Richie's left hand and brought it against his chest, laying his hand over Richie's. Virgil's heart was beating a mile a minute, ready to leap out of his chest, and, as a result, Richie gave Virgil a confused, sideways glance. He was trying desperately to figure out what was going on, but no matter what scenario he came up with, none of it made sense.

It occurred to him that he was probably overthinking, so he tried to think of Virgil's actions in more abstract terms.

A beat before Virgil spoke, Richie figured out what was going on, and his heart, too, began to flutter at the same speed as Virgil's, if not faster to compensate for the fact that his brain was swimming in endorphins, his blood was rushing through his veins, and his breathing sped up.

"Richie…" Virgil began, tightening his hold on Richie's hand, "Will you marry me?" He paused only for a brief moment, barely allowing Richie any time to speak. "I know it seems really sudden, and, like I said, I don't really have anything proper to do this with, so I would really understand if—"

"Virgil." Richie grinned and shook his head. "Shut up."

With grinned sheepishly. "So is that a yes?"

Richie leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Virgil's. His were arms draped over Virgil's shoulders, and Virgil's arms were around Richie's back. The kiss stayed soft and sensual. Quietly, in a choked up cry that caused Virgil to wrap his arms tighter around him, Richie said:

"There is no one else I would rather marry than you."

_Omnia Vincit Amor_

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><p><strong>AN**: A couple things:

1. I am aware they were making out near a dead cat. It would have just been so awkward for Richie to be like "Be right back, yo, gotta bury my cat real quick." Hence, making out near a dead cat. I sort of just figure they bury her after all this. Imagine what you will.

2. _Omnia Vincit Amor_ means "Love Conquers All" which is something I thought was appropriate for this story. Not to mention, it's a quote from the poet Virgil. Which is... well... yeah. You get it.

3. I am also aware Virgil basically broke into Richie's house, but, come on, let's be honest here. If you heard your friend sobbing, and the door was locked, and no one was answering, you would break the fuck in, too. If you wouldn't, you should consider it as an option.

4. There's probably grammatical errors galore, I know. I tried editing, but I can't catch everything. So bear with me if there is!

I kind of... I kind of don't know what my feels are doing. On the one hand, I'm sad this story is over, because it's basically been my baby for the last six weeks. On the other hand, I'm relieved, because I have school work to focus on (it's the end of the quarter, like I mentioned in the last chapter). Either way, there will be a sequel to this. Let me know if you would want to see that.(It'll mostly be about Virgil and Richie being engaged and other fun shenanigans... like Angelica's new boyfriend...)

Please review. Seriously, please? I would just really appreciate a review. Anon or not, I don't care. I just want a review telling me how this story was. Please?


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